#I have cried from work multiple times lol

[aprillikesthings]

OKAY BUT ALSO and I know I'm thinking about this bc I watched Save the Cat again last night

BUT

I can't get over all of this from Catra's POV because, again, it's been a whole year since she's even seen/spoken to Adora, she's been spending the whole time trying to defeat the Rebellion and working so hard she's losing it from not sleeping enough--only for it all to crumble to nothing, for Double Trouble to show up and rub it in, and then Glimmer shows up and Catra's just like. "fuck it, kill me."

she really does think nobody gives a shit whether she lives or dies*, and sending Glimmer away is meant to be a "well Prime's probably going to kill me anyway lol might as well at least save Adora (and Glimmer). and apologize to her while I'm at it"

BUT NOPE

fuck

so she apologizes to Adora, assumes she's gonna be killed, and instead is tortured and chipped. And depending on how you interpret Don't Go, is forced to hallucinate Adora rescuing her multiple times.

but Adora DOES show up, and Catra fights off the chip just long enough to tell Adora she wants to go home--before Prime pitches her off the platform to her near-death, and ffs I have to headcanon she was unconscious immediately D:

And the next time she's conscious, AT ALL, Adora is holding her.

Even in the Portal most of their affection was play-fighting and shoving each other.

Two years of trying so hard to prove (to herself, to Adora) that she doesn't need Adora, one day of the Portal forcing her to remember she misses Adora before it all falls to pieces, another year of attempting to destroy everything Adora loves** while avoiding even seeing her/speaking to her--and then ONE APOLOGY and act of self-sacrifice

and Adora shows up, promises to take her home, and Catra wakes up in Adora's arms as Adora hugs her and cries in relief.

AAAAHHHHH FUCK

(*she's like "all I do is hurt people, there's nobody in the universe who cares about me," dude Glimmer clearly doesn't hate your guts anymore lol there's at least ONE person, but eh, we know she struggles with this shit, like, believing anyone might care about her is half her arc in s5 and she backslides repeatedly until the literal last episode) (**including herself, not that she believed that at the time)

okay I know I've talked about it....multiple times...on other posts, but the timeline of Adora and Catra's interactions from s3 to s5 fucking kills me because like

so the portal happens, they're REALLY affectionate in that fake reality, then it falls apart and Catra is furious, blaming her for everything while corrupted, and Adora punches her

and I wonder how much they both thought about how flirty they were at first, in the portal reality? that the reason Catra was so furious was Adora forcing her to confront the fact that it's fake--that Catra wanted to stay in that reality longer.

like DO THEY BOTH THINK ABOUT THAT??? do they lie awake at night sometimes and think about it??? (well, past Catra's literal nightmares in which Adora asks her why she pulled the switch)

what is the story they've each told themselves about what happened in the portal reality, when they were so affectionate? "she didn't mean any of it"? cool, YOU still did.

I just imagine both of them thinking "well shit. I thought I'd gotten rid of all those feelings. eh, it was the portal. not me." BZZT. WRONG.

anyway. a few episodes into s4 is the next time they see each other, they don't even fight directly, Catra tries her old taunting-but-flirting thing and Adora refuses to engage.

and that's it.

for like. an entire season of the show. so about a year. A YEAR.

Catra ends up on the ship with Glimmer, they reminisce and we see Catra smiling while talking about Adora.

but the next time they even hear each other's voices is Catra over the comms saying she's sorry. and trying to save Adora's life. ;_;

[mitochondriencocktail]

Joost is a Scorpio sun Pisces moon my Pisces sun/moon ass didn’t stand a chance

[pepprs]

june 27th give it up for june 27th

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

sebek and his big ol' heart

Y’all thought I would be writing an extensive analysis on [REDACTED] or Skully but JOKE’S ON YOU, I love my lame idiot child Sebek 😭

When I tell you I actually CRIED MULTIPLE TIMES reading his Nightmare Suit vignettes… because all the pieces fit together SO well…

Before reading this (long) post, I’d like to ask that you also take your time to read this analysis and this analysis. They will help you understand some of the points I made later regarding Sebek and his internalized racism + how he expresses himself.

Have your recommended reading done? Great, then let’s hop to it!

***Spoilers for Sebek's Nightmare Suit vignettes, book 7, and various other Sebek and Silver card vignettes.***

Sebek is one of those characters that lives in infamy for how much time he takes to get warmed up to. He presents himself as loud and brazen, with these traits often earning him the ire of both in-universe peers and irl fans alike. Worst case scenario, Sebek can be seen as someone who is outright hateful. He’s rude to most people (including Silver, his childhood friend, sometimes), denounces humans, acts like Malleus can do nothing wrong, and doesn’t seem to respect his own father.

Well, I’m here today to tell you those claims are false and that Sebek is actually capable of so, so much love. All you need to really do is look at his Nightmare Suit vignettes—and how well they connect with the rest of his lore—to understand what I mean.

The vignettes start with Jack Skellington finishing a bento that Sally made for him. Sebek tells Jack that he should now return the basket that the bento was delivered in to her and to let her know what he thinks of her meals, but Jack says he can’t because he’s busy with Halloween preparations. Jack asks Sebek and Azul to return the basket in his stead, which they do. They aren't allowed to see Sally because Dr. Finkelstein has locked her up for misbehaving, so they leave the basket. Azul advises that they also pass along Jack's comments (he had called Sally smart, thoughtful, and kind; he often forgets to have meals when he's absorbed with his work, so it's generous for her to prepare a delicious meal like this for him). Sebek loudly refuses, as he believes that hearing these grateful words from Jack himself would be much more meaningful to Sally.

He later confronts Sally at Town Hall and asks to speak with her privately (in an ALLEYWAY lol). There, Sebek flat-out tells Sally that such roundabout tactics will never help her feelings reach Jack because he's way too dense. Of course, she reacts with denial which sends Sebek into a passionate speech about the lengths Sally will go to for love (short of actually speaking about it). She literally threw herself out of a window and put herself in bodily harm to get to Jack when Dr. Finkelstein locked her in her room. She deliberately disobeyed her guardian and brainstormed a way to get out when theoretically she should not have been able to move around freely. If that's not motivated by love, then what is? Sebek declares that it's really annoying to watch Sally dance around the issue and to see her devotion go to waste. IT'S LIKE HE'S WATCHING/READING A ROMCOM AND THE TWO MAIN CHARACTERS KEEP PLAYING THE "WILL THEY, WON'T THEY" CARD... She admits that she can't share her feelings because Sally thinks she's not worthy of someone as impressive as Jack... They're not compatible. And you know how Sebek responds??? BY TELLING SALLY ABOUT WHAT IS BASICALLY TWISTED ROMEO AND JULIET... Sebek reading tragic romance confirmed 😭 He describes the story as one of two lovers whose families do not approve of their union. In desperation, the lovers try to elope--but their plan fails and they return to their warring families. Instead of committing dying like in the original tale, the lovers live the rest of their lives lamenting the outcome and how they can no longer see the person they love most. Sebek shares his own interpretation of the story and its moral: because the lovers gave up hope that they could get their families to accept one another... because they never tried to get their families to get along... because they could not properly articulate their feelings to their families... the lovers could not be together. He is convinced that if they had communicated better, the story would have a happier ending. Sebek is of the firm belief that a story itself cannot come to be without the author wanting to share their own thoughts or feelings; he even suggests that maybe the author of Romeo and Juliet experienced something similar--a regret that resulted from neglecting to express deep-seated feelings. It's not just this book either, Sebek claims to have many stories with a similar theme or miscommunication leading to conflict.

Above all, Sebek stresses to Sally that she must believe in herself and take swift, decisive action. And why does Sebek whole-heartedly throw himself into this belief? Because his own family is living proof that a happy ending is possible if you try hard for it.

If you've paid attention to Sebek lore prior to this, you'll know that he has a human father and a fae mother. Their marriage faced opposition and scrutiny in Briar Valley, a country which is isolated from the rest of the world and suffered greatly from human invaders pilfering the fae lands for resources. One of these sources of opposition and scrutiny is Sebek's own grandfather and his mother's father, Baur. Apparently, Mrs. Zigvolt married Mr. Zigvolt against the wishes of her dad.

Sebek shares even more details with Sally in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. To this day, Baur does NOT approve of his daughter's marriage--but Mrs. Zigvolt doesn't let that get her down! No, she does everything in her power to prove to her father that she made the right choice and she's perfectly content with her life. She'll send letters enclosed with photographs of her family, take her children to visit Baur's home, and invites him to join family dinners. Sebek adds that he's sure his mom made other efforts too--all to try and get Baur to acknowledge her marriage. More recently, Baur seems to have lightened up a little... as in, he always used to turn Mr. Zigvolt away at the door, but now lets him in about once a year (though Baur still avoids eye contact with him and continues to frown). Mrs. Zigvolt stubbornly believes that if she keeps this up, her dad will one day change and bless her marriage with the man she truly loves. Sally commends Sebek and his mother's ability to speak their minds loudly and proudly, but then disparages herself again by saying she can't do the same. Sebek then confesses that he can relate to Sally's frustrations. He related her feelings to his own inadequacy in serving Malleus, the powerful and noble king-to-be of his country. That feeling... Sebek describes it as akin to heartache. But instead of wallowing in that heartache, he pushes himself to close that distance between himself and his idol. If he keeps hesitating, then there is absolutely no way he can catch up to where Malleus is! Sebek must dedicate himself to becoming someone worthy of serving him. He encourages Sally to do the same through both her words and her actions! At that moment, Jack walks in and Sally makes good on Sebek's advice. (This part isn't important to the analysis on Sebek's character, so I'm glossing over it.) The vignettes end with Epel complaining about Sebek being loud as per usual. Sally doesn't take issue with his volume though. She simply giggles and informs Epel that Sebek speaks so loudly and clearly so that his words can resonate with others--like how his words gave her courage.

We have learned new lore about Sebek's grandfather and mother. What does this tell us about Sebek? A lot, actually--if you slate it with all the other lore we have on hand.

We see just how strong of a woman his mother is. I suspect this is where Sebek picked up a lot of his hard-headedness, as well as the tendency to express himself very overtly, from. However, it also speaks to the loving environment he grew up in.

His mother seemingly never questioned her own life choices and never gave up fighting to prove her happiness to a father--and likely an entire community--that rejected her marriage, her husband, and maybe even her children. She fiercely loves and defends her family and the life they have made for themselves. Sebek states that he looks up to her for her magical strength, but that he also admires her principles and strong convictions. Indeed, it was her who ardently pursued Mr. Zigvolt and did not allow naysaying to deter her.

Then there is Mr. Zigvolt. In Sebek's Birthday Boy vignettes, he describes his father as "a strange man" who is "magically deficient" and "never lets his smile fade, no matter what I say to him [...] he defies comprehension." Though Sebek doesn't seem to hold the same amount of respect he has for his mother for his father, we don't hear Sebek openly insulting his dad, just expressing confusion about him. When asked about it, Sebek denies depending on his father--but it's clear there is a fondness there that he's not addressing. Mr. Zigvolt is impressed whenever his children use magic, buys them snacks they never asked for, and talks with them for long periods of time in a calm, patient manner. His father, too, has given Sebek so much compassion and understanding.

We don't know a lot about Sebek's siblings, but they seem to get along fine! He has mentioned going to parks with them. They've also gone fishing together and witnessed magic competitions, which they were all amazed by. The Zigvolts in general (or at least the parents) seem to be accepting too, as they volunteer to take Silver in whenever Lilia is unable to take care of him.

And you'd think that's where it ends, but NO. Baur ALSO has a lot of love to give. Despite not approving of his daughter's marriage, he doesn't actively despise his grandchildren. Quite the opposite, in fact! Though he's rough around the edges and looks scary, Baur doesn't fault any of his grandchildren for being born half fae and half human. He actually makes it a point to bond with them, and especially with Sebek. It was Baur who taught Sebek the language of nocturnal fae and instilled in Sebek his love for reading (as he bought many books for him and tells many stories himself). He also personally reached out to Lilia to train Sebek, as the young boy (at around age 7) expressed an interest in martial arts. Sebek has a love for salmon carpaccio because he and his siblings would fish at Baur's house and then prepare the dish for him--Baur was so happy about it. Additionally, Baur values getting a good education and was proud when Sebek shared with him that he was invited to attend Night Raven College.

Sebek grew up in a country that dislikes humans, but he was raised in an household where he was loved unconditionally and provided with all the resources he could need to get a good education and become someone who is physically strong. So of course he becomes frustrated when he sees Sally, who is so nervous to act on her feelings. What would have happened if Sebek’s mother had been like Sally? Sebek, as the youngest of three, might not event exist. His parents may not still be together… or maybe they wouldn’t have gotten together in the first place. It’s exactly because Sebek knows what love is supposed to be like--courtesy of his own family—that he can see it so well in others, and wants them to act on it. His very existence is proof that love is possible, and it transcends arbitrary labels like race that serve to divide people into categories.

One quirk of Sebek's is how he's always dishing out back-handed compliments or making comments that come off as rude but aren't at their core. He can't seem to help but say a good thing that sounds like something bad. His Diasomnia classmates, usually Silver, have to translate these Sebek-isms for others, who misunderstand him or interpret his words in the worst possible way. For example, from one of Silver’s Fairy Gala lines; “Sebek said to me that no self-respecting disciple of Lilia’s would dare get a single stain on this clothing. That's his way of encouraging me.” In Silver's Dorm Uniform vignettes, Sebek tries to reassure his friend and tell him to not let other people's opinions hurt him--but he phrases it as, "Hmph, ridiculous! I see no reason for you to heed a few random comments from some humans." The duo is also shown to be competitive with one another in training; it's never malicious, they both want to prove themselves as the superior knight, and the other serves as motivation to improve and/or a means of measuring one's own growth against a fellow disciple. When the mostly elderly population of Harveston is in need of physical labor, Sebek comments "[...] the humans in Harveston are woefully out of shape," yet he insists he "still [has] energy to burn" (as if to volunteer himself to do more work) and call such tasks "simple" (as if to point out how easy it is for him to do, so don't worry about troubling him). He hauls apples and helps the villagers with whatever they need, declaring that they should "be grateful"--but if he truly did not care, he could have stopped at any time or settled for just making fun of them. But Sebek doesn't, because he DOES care deep down. This aspect of Sebek is made even more obvious in Fairy Gala: What If. He appears at Ramshackle and opens by declaring, "NO! I am by no means worried about anyone! [...] Don't mistake my intentions. I am NOT here to help! If your mission doesn't succeed, the repercussions will definitely affect Malleus and Lilia. Hence... I shall lend you uneducated humans my aid! [...] You're welcome to weep with joy at my magnanimity..." Time and time again, we see Sebek demonstrating a lot of kindness, but deflecting or not being totally transparent with his intentions due to pride or embarrassment. This behavior is very reminiscent of Baur, the grandfather that Sebek loves dearly and spent so much time with. Baur, too, can be very passionate and loving, but struggles to speak of those feelings openly. Just look at how the man deals with Mr. Zigvolt. The behaviors of the family, then, imprint on Sebek and influence his behaviors--and being that Sebek is from such a loving group, it follows that Sebek puts out a lot of love into the world too.

A lot of times when the fandom discusses Sebek's attitude, I feel it's from the context of him being hateful towards humans. I'm not going to deny that Sebek has said some pretty nasty things about half of his own identity. The point I would like to make here is that Sebek can love just as strongly.

The most obvious thing that supports the claim that Sebek is capable of strong love is how he views Malleus. It's no great secret that Sebek practically worships the ground his dorm leader walks on. That's essentially Sebek's key defining character trait. What I'll ask you to consider instead is the nature of Sebek's love--not the obsessiveness of it, but rather the unconditional nature of it.

In Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Skully laments that Sebek has not been disappointed by his idol, Malleus. Sebek actually corrects him by saying that love isn't imposing your own views on your idol, it means preparing to accept them, flaws and all. He says the same of Malleus; should the time ever come where Sebek's expectations of Malleus falter or their paths have to diverge, then he will still embrace his young master, never once turning his back on him. And where does Sebek gets this from? His parents. The father who loves his children no matter how critical Sebek may be of him. The mother who remained so strong in the face of her friends and family being against her life choices.

A common fandom sentiment regarding Sebek is that he blindly follows Malleus--but when speaking about his idol to Skully, Sebek says that agreeing with someone and continuing to love them are different things. You can disagree with someone's actions and still continue to love them and accept them. This follows what Sebek does in book 7; though he is betrayed and hurt by Malleus turning his powers against the world, Sebek does not let up on the hope that he can bring his young master back. He even sillily calls the yet-to-be-hatched Malleus tamago/egg-sama, showing even an infant form of Malleus great respect after witnessing his OB. Skully took the opposite path that Sebek did; when he realized that his own idol, Jack Skellington, was not as he imagined him to be, Skully became enraged and lashed out over it. Sebek points out Skully's inadequacies as well, which ties back to how he spoke of his own drive to improve in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. Skully confesses to trying desperately to emulate Jack--so much so that he breaks down when Sebek's UM destroys his iconic shades. He wallows in his current state and doesn't make efforts to change or to be better; the past and his own vision is where he's comfortable. It's a strong contrast to Sebek, who has made it clear he will continue to train and work hard to prove his merits and to be someone worthy of protecting the great Malleus Draconia.

It is Sebek's passion and boundless love that makes him a hero both in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas AND in the main story's book 7. He serves as a foil to Skully in the former and actively saves Silver when he's on the brink of despair in the latter. After learning that his biological father is the man responsible for killing Malleus's mother and leading the Silver Owls' onslaught on Briar Valley, Silver despairs and comes to the conclusion that his father must loathe him. "He could never love the son of the man he despised! He has to hate me! He has to!" Sebek rushes to Silver's side using Living Bolt, a UM he has yet to master (thus causing residual damage to him when he casts it), to correct him:

"You have this much strength... and you dare to say you weren't loved?! That you were hated?! [...] If [Lilia] hated you, he didn't have to give or teach you anything. He could've just raised you into a dimwitted coward and made you a servant. But he didn't--and look at you now. Even alone and helpless, you stood firm. You spoke up, unfaltering in the face of our liege's madness. Even trapped in the darkest despair, you kept on fighting! Who raised you to be so strong? LILIA DID! Why don't you see? Why do you doubt? You should have understood years ago! What can you call your strength, if not the direct result of Lilia's love?!"

WHETHER SEBEK REALIZES IT OR NOT, A LOT OF WHAT HE TELLS SILVER HITS HOME FOR HIM TOO... Like, thinking about it... Sebek must have faced a lot of prejudice from his community because of who his father is. He might have grown up thinking he, too, was hated, had he not been protected by his loving mother, father, and, yes, even grandfather, who is still struggling to accept the human in their family. Baur must have been feeling very complicated emotions upon meeting his half human grandchildren for the first time... but even though he dislikes humans, he could never find it in himself to dislike his grandkids. If he had hated Sebek, he wouldn't have wanted him to get a good education. Baur wouldn't be happy that he got into NRC. He wouldn't personally ask Lilia to train the grandson who expressed an interest in combat. He wouldn't buy so many books for Sebek or read with him or tell him stories or teach him his language. But Baur DID do all of these things, because deep down he loves Sebek no matter what he is. If it was anything less than love he felt for his grandson, if he decided to neglect his grandkids, then Sebek would have grown up as some "dimwitted coward". IT'S ALL CONNECTED.

And now here Sebek stands, able to tell others that they are loved and should be cognizant of that love. He reminds Silver that Lilia loves him. He advises Skully to reevaluate how he sees his idol. He tells Sally to speak honestly about her feelings, because it was his own mother speaking honestly about hers that led to Sebek and his entire family being as happy as they are now. He shouts at people to act and to speak their minds because he doesn't want them to live with regrets, because he doesn't want to see them be weak and timid--a version of himself that could have resulted if he hadn't been loved so strongly.

You can say many things about Sebek: that he's loud, that he's rude, that he's a fanboy, that he has big muscles. But of all those muscles, Sebek has a very big heart too. And what made him so strong? All the love he received from his family, despite growing up an environment that surely invited hatred for humans.

[lubrumalis]

ghost headcanons! (realistic)

tw: nsfw, spoilers, dead dove do not eat

a lot of these are based off of my personal understanding of him

part 2 —> character analysis of ghost

general:

didn’t go back to manchester after his family died, too many foul memories—a lot of friends will probably know him as a murderer (comic reference, ghost was accused of killing his family in the newspaper)

has a fit body. a lot of people like to hc him as big and bulky, i think otherwise! its actually a huge disadvantage to be bulky in size as a soldier (logistics while fighting yk). most SAS soldiers are trained for endurance and fitness, i think he has a moreso lean body

hes not cold and ruthless, wouldn’t say hes a big softie either.

VERYYYY punctual. always on time

will not abuse or rape anyone. this guys been through atrocities, he would never do it to someone else

won’t hire a prostitute, ever.

honestly, hes just another dude in the military. he loves dad jokes and bourbon😭

ghost doesn’t think hes mean or tries to be, he simply is intimidating because of his size and way of talking

he likes watching soccer in his free time

gets internally offended if someone thinks hes from london (anywhere but Manchester)

very dark humoured. tell him any dark joke and he wouldn’t care

loves tea

listens to older british bands, like the smiths

cannot understand modern slang at all. what does ‘iykyk’ and ‘rizzler’ mean???

texts like a typical millennial. uses ‘😂’ and ‘😜’ unironically. types with proper grammar and spelling with punctuation too, maybe an occasional LOL

also unironically likes posts about trust issues and being a sigma male. he doesn’t actually think hes one, he just relates to those quotes that are like: “being alone is better than with fakes” 😭😭😭😭

ghost probably hates other men more than misandrists 😕 i think its bc hes always fighting other men and dealing with the cruel things theyve done, so ghost subconsciously feels more on guard with men he doesnt know

has insomnia

doesn’t cry. ghost doesn’t remember the last time he cried.

isn’t rich rich, but has a ton of savings. he doesn’t have a family or spend a lot. so the money piles up.

relationship hcs:

first off, i dont think he’d realistically get into one anyway LMAO

s/o would have to the chasing, i dont think ghost is the kind to actively pursue someone

he has charisma, doesn’t feel like using it

hes very against the idea at first—his family got murdered because he was in the military, you think hes gonna let it happen again?

probably will not like someone working with him as a soldier

i think itd go two ways: a) you are a civilian who aggressively pursues the poor guy and he gives in, b) you work as a military nurse and gradually get to know him, c) you are a longtime close friend of his before he was in the military

i cant see him being fwb with anyone, only one night stands

hes not a toxic partner or super lovey dovey

ghost doesn’t entertain multiple women at once

itd most likely end up in a breakup where he fears for your safety:(((

BUT lets ignore that

tbh, i think he would probably be with someone very empathetic and kind to others. he doesn’t like people overly energetic, too soft, or someone that annoys him

persons gotta be independent and good with long distance

simon doesn’t care about age gaps, but probably wants someone at least in their late twenties

had a hard time opening up, eventually told you everything once he trusts you

another reason why i think he wants someone empathetic is because he has severe trust issues😃😃

last thing he’d care about is looks for long term relationships

the type of guy to disappear for 6 months and reappear to be like “remember im your husband???”🫡

doesn’t let you tell your friends about him—No hes not being uncommitted or toxic, but hes simply being cautious after what happened to his family

you can’t show anyone photos of him, his name, his occupation, NOTHHINGGG

so you fake a name for your bf who your friends think you’re lying about

definitely does not let you post on social media about him either.

installs security in your home, teaches you self defense, and gives you weapons. this guy can be paranoid

will never hit you or lay a hand on you

ghost genuinely thinks you saved him—his life was bleak and empty before you came in. subconsciously thinks of you as a savior

he buys you gifts, does chores for you, he really likes you :(

ghost actively tries to make his voice sound softer and friendlier when hes talking to you

doesnt understand playing mind games, things like the silent treatment or “im ok” when ur not ok thing. just tell him how you feel

doesn’t tell his team about your existence. you and his job are always going to be separate.

avoids talking about what he does in the military. ghost has killed and injured many and he doesn’t want you to see that side of him.

scary dog privileges for SURE

[lingerina]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐁𝓐𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝓦𝐒 ／ julie han

➛ g!p maid julie x fem!reader ➛ 847 words !!! adultery, creampie, squirting, multiple orgasms ➛ you have confronted your husband about checking out the maid, and now you confront the maid. ➛ A/N happy belated new year? lol i’ve been rediscovering some hobbies lately, hence writing has been on the back burner again. but i’ve updated the list of women i write for. if you have seen julie doing that part in ‘nobody knows’, then you’ll understand how i was possessed to write this. those clips have graced my tiktok fyp and ig explore page multiple times. i just had to. 😮‍💨

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

You’ve heard of the stories where a family will hire a young maid or nanny to care for the kids and the house while the parents work. Nannies aren’t needed because you don’t have kids, but you still have pets and a massive house that needs to be cared for. Hence the hiring of a maid who urgently needs some quick cash while she searches for bigger jobs.

Julie Han is a young woman straight out of college.

Straight out of a magazine too.

With the looks of a doll and the charm of a girl next door, Julie can easily have anyone wrapped around her finger.

Your cat, who’s wary of strangers, immediately took a liking to her. Your friends who have come over and met her have asked for her to watch their kids or animals as well. As envious as you are of the attention she gets, you can’t help but be one of the victims of her spell too.

You just can’t be heinous to someone who’s nice and goes the extra mile for your pets.

The stares from your husband that lingers a little too long on her don’t go unnoticed though. It’s hard to decipher Julie’s body language when she catches his gaze but you confront them separately because things will only escalate if you dismiss everything that is deemed small and insignificant. Some people masquerade their intentions well behind a blank or stone cold face, so you can never be too safe.

Your husband denies staring but Julie is more truthful.

Except you had it all wrong.

Julie’s hand is tightly clamped over your mouth, muffling your moans and cries as her cock hits in all the right places. The confrontation has led to you being shoved onto the bed and your flimsy loungewear being torn off by the woman who actually had eyes on you. You can’t risk your husband hearing the maid fucking his wife’s brains out as he’s showering right above her bedroom, but she knows how to wield what she has—a feat that he has yet to achieve. 

The guilt lingers in your chest but your cunt drips for her. The sheets are soaked in your essence, courtesy of her skillful mouth and fingers that wouldn’t stop bringing you to orgasm. The more you try to persuade her to stop, the harder she goes on you.

Because you both know that you don’t want her to stop.

The water cuts off, leaving the residence to be engulfed in silence. The smacks of hips clashing with every fervent thrust is like a pin dropping, causing the tightness in your chest and the pit of your stomach to swell. Your clammy hands clutch at the crumpled sheets beneath you, your walls closing in on her as she fucks you harder. You don’t have the conscience to stop her because god, you want this.

You need this.

She grins, her long hair curtained over your face as she hovers closer to you.

“You think I want your lame husband?,” she snickers.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your back arches.

“You clearly don’t want him either.”

There is no cue given, but her demeaning words bring you to ecstasy. Your eyes roll back when her thumb on your pulsing clit works you into overdrive. Your body spasms beneath her, tremors coursing through your limbs as you gush around her cock, further soiling the sheets. You can vaguely hear your husband calling for you in the kitchen but all you can focus on is Julie’s cock drilling you, and the filthy squelches of your cunt accepting the abuse.

Your heart rate picks up as his voice gets progressively louder but she is clearly unbothered. She has other priorities to fill.

Like you.

She buries her face in your neck. With a whine and a tremble, you shudder as warmth fills you. A shallow thrust pushes her release deeper, reaching depths that can taint and break you—just as she intends to.

You sink back into the mattress with a quiet sigh when she pulls out. Your head feels at the mess that you’ve both caused—figuratively and literally. 

The man that you have sworn your heart and life to is on the other side of the door, never expecting his wife to cheat on him with their maid. You have committed the very act that you swore you would raise hell about, and a part of you feels shameful about the hypocrisy.

On the other hand, Julie is proud of her work. She grins as her cum seeps out of you: a testament to prove that the man is not always wanted.

“You don’t need him,” she taunts as she slides back into you, harder than ever.

Your eyes widen as she raises your legs and folds them over your chest, testing your flexibility.

“This pretty pussy is mine.”

Your mouth falls open after she bottoms out.

“And she clearly agrees.”

Weak. Shameful. Needy. 

You can’t argue with her. You can only accept that you’re terribly wrong.

[arminsumi]

we've had ex geto... but what about ex gojo?

YOUR FAVORITE EX

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Note : ooo... ex gojo 🤤 hope u likey

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : contains smut/explicit content, kinda toxic themes, some angst, baby trapping, pregnancy, dirty talk, unprotected sex + creampies, possessiveness

Playme : streets

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

Ex!Gojo makes the break up everyone's business. And of course it's you breaking up with his obnoxious, overdramatic ass. Multiple times, too. You two have broken up so many times in fact that your friends just don't take it seriously anymore when you announce "We're breaking up". That just means "We're getting back together in two weeks (lol)."

Ex!Gojo pulls the "I can't find anyone like you" and the "Aw, don't be like that, baby" cards on you.

Ex!Gojo claims to be your favorite ex. Yeah you hate him... buuut he's still your favorite... right? Right? He'll nag you to admit it. It makes his heart flutter and ego swell bigger than his head.

Ex!Gojo is a menace, always deterring your potential new lovers and declining dates on your behalf. He gives you a stupid excuse with that cheeky smirk, "What? It's not like they could love you better than me, anyways. I'm the best. Don't waste your time. Just come back to me, yeah? You know my arms are still open to you."

Ex!Gojo doesn't act like an ex at all. He still kisses you. Still hugs you. Invites you for every party. Visits your apartment at 2 AM when he's drunk and rambles to you about all the crazy things he always rambled about at 2 AM. And you don't treat him like an ex because... his kisses put you in a trance. Then you realize oh, we're broken up, what the hell.

Ex!Gojo clings to your body and holds it with the same possessiveness that he always used to. He places his big hand on your hip and grips it tight, especially at parties. "Stay close to me."

Ex!Gojo taunts you during those late-night hatefucks, "You missed this fat cock fucking up your guts, huh? I know you did. Don't you fucking lie to me." while he's balls deep in you, skin slapping loudly against yours in the backseat of his car. He just kindly offered you a drive home, and then one thing led to another and you ended up on his lap having his big hands moving your hips up and down. "That's it, admit how much you missed me 'n bounce on this cock, baby. Admit it."

Ex!Gojo fucks you harder when he's your ex, making sure you're super full and stuffed with his cock. He loves molding your tiny hole to accommodate his shape, hitting your sweet spots with mean pounding thrusts until you scream those three little words for him. "I miss you!" he smiles when he hears this, presses his forehead to yours and coos while cumming inside, "Missed you too, baby. Missed this pussy. You know it's m-mine forever, don't you? No one can fuck you better than I can..." and it's true, no one knows the map of your sweet spots and erogenous zones better than he does. He's masterful at pleasuring you.

Ex!Gojo cums inside you more than he did while you two were dating. Who knows why. Seems like his animalistic, primal brain kicked in and he thought well if I put a baby in you... you'll have a piece of me forever. You'll have to come back to me. And his seed is potent. You bet you're getting pregnant. He has the wolfiest smile when you bitterly show him the pregnancy test. "Ooh, baby I'm so proud of that little pussy for getting pregnant. Let's have a celebratory fuck."

Ex!Gojo knows that no matter where you go, he'll always find you. His high school sweetheart. His five year girlfriend. The mother of his child. The only woman that's ever had such a strong hold on him. The only one he's ever been weakened by.

Ex!Gojo cries sometimes after creaming up inside your pussy, "Please come back... I miss you so bad..." and starts sobbing like a puppy into the crook of your neck when you run your fingers through his snowy hair.

Ex!Gojo feels his broken heart get pieced back together when you finally return to him. And just like that, he slots half his soul into yours. "Baby... you're the best thing this world ever gave me. Just let me marry you, please..."

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[sepherinaspoppies]

New Girl (Modern! Aegon x Aemond x Roommate! Reader)

warnings: voyeurism, threesome, modern incest, blowjob, and many more when I release it lol.

Summary: To save money, you decide to move in with two complete strange guys from a Facebook ad. Unknowingly, one of them is a very well known pornstar and his younger brother, an ​​erotic audiobook narrator from one of your favorite smutty books. What happens when you accidentally find out their hidden– shared secret?

Sneak Peek!

You knew it was wrong, very wrong for you to click on something so private. If the situation was reversed, and Aegon had borrowed your laptop, you wouldn’t want him to deep dive into your personal files. Not that there was anything lewd in your laptop, maybe one picture of yourself in your bikini when you first visited the Dornish beaches, but that was it. 

But what was in front of you, called you out like a moth to a flame. 

So you silently said to yourself: ‘fuck it’– and clicked on the little blue folder. Instantly so, your jaw cast open and your eyes almost bulged out of your eye sockets at what you saw. A list of multiple pornographic videos of Aegon splayed across the screen. You knew he was a pornstar, and his videos were all over the internet; but why did he have them saved to his laptop? 

Perhaps as backup? 

However, a hard drive was a better option to save his work.

You randomly clicked on one video before you made sure to lower the volume and the brightness of the screen. That’s when you saw a close up of Aegon and his curved–hard dick, you assumed he was adjusting the lens and you were right as he walked out of frame, revealing a black haired woman on her knees with another guy’s dick in her mouth. 

Oh Seven Hells. This was a threesome! 

But who was the other guy? You could only see from his chest down, his face out of frame. Though, he looked very well endowed as the woman sucked less than half of his length down her throat. 

“Take more of his cock, darling. There’s plenty of room down your pretty throat to fit ten inches.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

You watched amazed as the woman seemed to comply with Aegon's orders and took the guy’s dick further down her throat, slowly and vehemently. The guy cradled the back of her head, fucking her at a languid pace until that pace began quickening ardently and you could hear the woman’s cries and gags as she struggled to take all of him. 

This continued for a few more minutes until the guy tugged her head away from his dick, giving her no time to relax her rapid breathing, and between him and Aegon they positioned her into all fours. 

Aegon thrusted into her without any warning or hesitation, bestowing many harsh slaps to her ass that even you could see his hand prints from the other end of the screen. 

The mysterious guy crawled in front of her, his dick still very hard as he pointed his swollen, red tip to the bottom of her lip, smearing what looked to be pre-cum. For the first time, you heard the guy moan, and you swore you recognized those moans from somewhere. 

You looked closely at the screen, at the guy; until you made out a dragon tattoo sketched on the guy’s left thigh. You knew that tattoo all too well. And who that tattoo belonged to. 

Aemond fucking Targaryen.

-----

this is for kinktober and might be more than one part!

let me know if y'all wanna be tagged in the full fic by commenting down below :))))

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted  pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍  drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est  word count: 18.8k gdi

-

-

Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher. 

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car. 

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time. 

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else. 

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root. 

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him. 

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive. 

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However. 

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household. 

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money. 

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways. 

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now. 

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer. 

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers. 

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.” 

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it. 

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview. 

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back. 

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become. 

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down. 

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.” 

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret. 

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon. 

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees. 

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.” 

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets. 

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him. 

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all. 

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you. 

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side. 

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…” 

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide. 

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back. 

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears. 

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.” 

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk. 

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.” 

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.” 

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?” 

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—” 

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it. 

“I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?” 

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.” 

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to. 

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry. 

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this. 

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling? 

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.” 

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left. 

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight. 

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off, 

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences. 

But one thing you two have in common? 

He’s just as stubborn as you are. 

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you. 

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them. 

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows, 

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately. 

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout, 

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior. 

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops. 

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done. 

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired. 

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished. 

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything. 

Except let you do this yourself. 

“Please.” 

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again. 

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts. 

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence. 

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times. 

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay. 

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers. 

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.” 

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all? 

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.” 

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.” 

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years. 

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were. 

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken, 

“You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck. 

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop. 

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways. 

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years. 

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend. 

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.” 

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost. 

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.” 

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.” 

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?” 

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.” 

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.” 

He laughs again. So do you. 

And the both of you break all at once. 

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world. 

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder. 

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end. 

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future. 

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours. 

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave. 

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away. 

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in. 

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness. 

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.” 

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.” 

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present. 

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of. 

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.” 

“It sure as fuck was.” 

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…” 

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.” 

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.” 

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things, 

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on— 

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face. 

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer? 

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets. 

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need. 

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?” 

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.” 

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.” 

“But it’s true.” 

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for. 

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it. 

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape. 

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.” 

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.” 

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide. 

If you didn’t have to wait. 

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out. 

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like. 

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze. 

So does time. 

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait. 

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless. 

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs. 

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time. 

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye. 

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try. 

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel. 

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it. 

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will. 

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons… 

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust. 

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth. 

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him. 

“Fuck.” 

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair. 

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now. 

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars. 

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you. 

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest. 

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory. 

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees. 

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that. 

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long. 

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.” 

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.” 

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.” 

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.” 

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves. 

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing. 

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides. 

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly. 

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes. 

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.” 

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence. 

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.” 

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close. 

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.” 

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.” 

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got. 

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore. 

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.” 

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years? 

This can’t be it. 

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.” 

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.” 

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.” 

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it. 

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?” 

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone. 

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.” 

“Until they realized we kept going alone.” 

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.” 

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.” 

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things. 

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.” 

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.” 

True. “It could be worse, I think.” 

“How?” 

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges. 

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade? 

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence. 

Together. 

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.” 

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.” 

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.” 

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that. 

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton. 

“And leave this to us when you came back.” 

So… He… 

Holy shit. 

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out. 

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible? 

…Is he paying loans? 

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t. 

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to. 

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways. 

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is. 

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too. 

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend? 

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.” 

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.” 

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.” 

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...” 

“Empty?” 

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.” 

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.” 

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else. 

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things. 

And regret others. 

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?” 

“All the time.” 

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.” 

“Hmm.” 

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.” 

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.” 

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were. 

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least. 

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.” 

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back. 

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.  

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you... 

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck. 

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can. 

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds. 

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.” 

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?” 

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.” 

“Okay.”  

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through. 

“Spoke to Kook.” 

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.” 

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.” 

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.” 

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate. 

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.” 

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.” 

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.” 

He what?

“Wait… You were?” 

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke. 

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway. 

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.” 

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.” 

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him? 

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams. 

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling. 

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.” 

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—” 

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most. 

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you. 

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself. 

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before. 

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort. 

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.” 

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.  

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh? 

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean… 

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note. 

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s. 

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened. 

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked. 

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen. 

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you. 

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts. 

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place. 

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?” 

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen. 

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.” 

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?” 

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start. 

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.” 

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game. 

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?” 

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.” 

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat. 

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.” 

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.” 

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?” 

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.” 

“Mm.” 

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants. 

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public. 

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.” 

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes. 

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?” 

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?” 

Huh. “Me? How?” 

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.” 

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer. 

“Not even denying it. I like this.” 

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again. 

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start. 

“Break? Or what do you feel like?” 

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.” 

“Mmk.” 

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.” 

“You can definitely be upset.” 

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all. 

Only warmth. And understanding. 

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.” 

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time. 

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way. 

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause. 

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present, 

“What are you gonna say?” 

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again. 

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot. 

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴 

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time 

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders. 

They’re lighter. 

How is that possible? You’re still sad. 

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing. 

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out. 

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again. 

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says. 

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this. 

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob. 

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle. 

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close. 

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone. 

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers. 

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours. 

“You will.” 

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.” 

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.” 

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.” 

“Oh? The luckiest then.” 

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.” 

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food. 

“Maybe you’re right.” 

One week turns into three. 

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought. 

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about— 

Oh. Right. 

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of. 

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision. 

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons. 

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day. 

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope. 

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good. 

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere. 

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up. 

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too. 

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded. 

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob. 

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time. 

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size. 

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo. 

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back? 

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all. 

Three months. 

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds. 

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else. 

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up? 

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer. 

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels. 

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either. 

To the point where it’s starting to scare you. 

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly. 

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling. 

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen… 

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now. 

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight. 

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know? 

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong. 

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable. 

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.” 

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted. 

“Babe, tell me. Now.” 

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—” 

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?” 

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement. 

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.” 

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.” 

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.” 

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”  

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner. 

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats. 

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing. 

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all. 

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours. 

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left. 

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless. 

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.” 

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.” 

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.” 

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?” 

“I just… You read.” 

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window. 

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.” 

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.” 

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there? 

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.” 

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.” 

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

He freezes. 

Which gives you a chance. 

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.” 

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done. 

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close. 

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet. 

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.” 

You do. 

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive. 

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door. 

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place. 

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want. 

“Please what.” 

Everything you want. 

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways. 

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap. 

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines. 

You don’t know what’s coming over you. 

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum. 

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding. 

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?” 

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh. 

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.” 

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance. 

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips. 

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too. 

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.” 

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight. 

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher. 

“So fucking filthy...” 

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair. 

“Don’t do that.” 

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls. 

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses. 

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin. 

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus. 

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time. 

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time. 

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.” 

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything. 

You know your panties are soaked. 

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit. 

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night. 

Perfect. 

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you. 

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.” 

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means. 

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot. 

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want. 

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath, 

“So fucking perfect.” 

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.” 

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” 

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.” 

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck. 

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between. 

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple. 

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved. 

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.” 

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him. 

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes. 

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling. 

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops. 

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure. 

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops. 

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again. 

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.  

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.” 

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” 

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided. 

“Then fucking beg.” 

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out. 

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.” 

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming. 

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips. 

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides. 

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too. 

Because his eyes speak volumes. 

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size. 

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem. 

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window. 

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—” 

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.” 

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.” 

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.” 

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe. 

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.” 

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better. 

It’s not. 

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds. 

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke. 

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.” 

What is he— 

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass. 

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make. 

“Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.” 

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.” 

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back. 

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.” 

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat. 

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel. 

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear, 

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.” 

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright. 

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.” 

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs. 

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk. 

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise. 

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again. 

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it. 

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver. 

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain. 

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep. 

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips. 

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple  a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard. 

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”  

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips. 

“Again.” 

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying. 

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true. 

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands, 

“Again.” 

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want. 

Oh, if they could witness you now. 

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.” 

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection. 

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months. 

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house. 

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there. 

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back. 

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.” 

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things. 

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes. 

Yeah. Stuff like that. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes. 

Does he feel at home, too? 

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next. 

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore. 

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets. 

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern. 

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.” 

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.” 

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”  

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.” 

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure. 

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“S’ok.” 

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.” 

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.” 

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper, 

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed. 

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak, 

“I always do, babe.” 

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering. 

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this. 

“That’s my fault.” 

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.” 

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care. 

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.” 

“You gave me tonight.” 

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give, 

“A little longer is nothing.” 

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again. 

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.” 

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.” 

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.” 

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.” 

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.” 

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul. 

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds. 

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others. 

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window. 

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.” 

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?” 

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.” 

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips. 

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.” 

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours. 

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface. 

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones. 

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side. 

“Not at all.” 

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head. 

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss. 

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light. 

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything. 

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”  

—

—

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tbc. :) 

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a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf)  A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder.  A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist 

[fir3ylolol]

we want you! pt.2

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, afab!reader, riding, seated sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise, soft moments, aftercare, sleeping over, quick shower sex, eating out, im incapable of not writing whiny men, i had to write him soft yall he would take such good care of you

a/n: COME GET YALLS DILF!! im so happy w/all the interaction ive been getting, its so reassuring. idk if there'll be a 3rd part, I'm not too sure where to go lol. we shall see!

word count: 2.07 k

other parts

Ao3

“Oh shit,” you sit up, wobbling slightly at the blood rush. “I-I didn’t tell you my name?” You look at him incredulously. “You slept with me even though you didn’t know my name??” Sitting up slowly, he laughs at your surprise, “I mean, it's not like I don’t know you. I know about your family, your studies, your work. You’re not exactly a closed book.” Sighing, you plop back down on the bed, “You’re right, I guess.” As you turn your head to him, you breathe your name out, with Johnny perking up at the sound.

“I like that. It’s good,” he lays back down next to you. He pulls you closer to his chest, whispering, “I think I’ll stick to love though, you always sounded so pretty when I did.” Slightly whining at his words, you stretch your neck up to kiss him gently. He accepts happily, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck to pull you up to deepen the kiss. As you two start making out, his free hand reaches down to grab your bare ass. He slaps it lightly, laughing into your mouth at the way you jump. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn't help myself. Besides, you left one of my questions unanswered.” Tilting your head in a teasing way, you manage to get out, “Keep kissing me and you’ll have your answer.”

He wastes no time in diving back in, using his grip on your ass to pull you on top of him. Resting your legs on either side of him, you tangle your hands in his hair, which is soft under your fingers. He groans lightly at the feeling, of you on top of him, and knowing how close you two are is dangerous. His suspicions are confirmed when you begin to lightly grind against him, quickly growing hard again. He’s a lot more sensitive than before, sensitivity heightened from his very recent orgasm. So when you reach one hand around to grab his cock, it’s his turn to jump, whimpering into your mouth.

“What? I thought you wanted more,” you ask, teasing him with your words. He quickly stops you with another heated kiss, pulling away for air. “I want so much more just…be gentle with the equipment, yeah?” Giggling as you resume the kiss, you rub the fat tip of his cock against your folds, making sure you’re wet enough to take him. And wet you are, hearing it slightly over the sound of Johnny’s moans echoing throughout your head as you two keep kissing. It’s broken again as you finally sink back down onto him, no need to adjust this time. Both of his hands are on your ass now, tight grip on them as he gasps at the feeling of being back inside you. His eyelids flutter as he looks up at you, voice coming out in a barely audible whisper, “S-shit, that’s’good”, words slightly slurring. It’s like he's actually pussy drunk, mouth held agape and pupils blown out.

You sit up, starting to roll your hips in smooth, slow movements. With each bit you move, he whines out more, head thrown back against your comforter. His eyes are still closed as the grip he has on you tightens, and he starts moving your hips faster. Or at least, trying to, since you hold steady and lock your legs against his sides. Now no one is moving, needy whimpers pour from his lips, pleading cries of “C’mon, please baby. This ain’t fair, teasing me like this-”

But you start to move again, finally at the pace he wants. The only difference is that he’s not in control like he would’ve been. No, now he’s looking up at you, eyes rolling back in his head as the hold he had on you is loosened. Leaning forward to press your chest against him, you continue bouncing on him, stoking his cock with your body. He is whining out in the most delicious way in your ear, continuous praises of “Thank you, baby, thank you so much…” His hips occasionally buck up into you, halting the rhythm you have temporarily, which he does complain about. Loudly. Until…

He grabs your hips suddenly, holding you down against him, unable to move. “Wait wait wait…” he breathes out, trying to catch his breath. “Let me just…” You feel him shifting under you, wrapping his arms around you as he sits up. He scoots to the edge of the bed, feet planted on the ground. Looking up at you with sweet puppy-dog eyes, his chin resting on your chest, he smiles as he whispers, “I wanna make you feel good too.” He lifts you off of himself, hands around your waist, and holds you out so you can stand on your own. Once on your feet, he motions for you to spin, lightly touching himself at the sight of you in front of him. Partially confused, you do, back turned to him. He grabs your hips, pulling you back to him and down. As you sit, you slowly sink back down onto him, the new angle causing him to hit the exact right spot. He gently spreads your legs apart, one hand reaching down to rub against your swollen clit, earning a moan from you.

“There we go,” he whispers in your ear, free hand against your waist as he begins fucking up into you, your whole body bouncing against him. Now it’s your turn to be noisy, as the movement against his hand quickly pushes you toward your finish. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at the skin. Both of you are extremely sensitive, but it seems you’re a little more so, as you lean your head back onto his other shoulder, face scrunched in pleasure.

“S-shit, don’t stop-ah!” You snap forward as you cum, it sneaks up on you in your sensitive state. Johnny bites down harder, a muffled moan vibrating through you. But he doesn’t slow, in fact, he does the opposite, speeding up. Both hands shoot up to wrap around your waist, holding you tight to himself as he continues wildly fucking into you. Finally letting go of the flesh he had trapped in his mouth, he starts spewing obscenities in your ear. “Hah, fuck, you feel so good when you cum baby, holy shit. So fuckin good, I’m losing my mind here. God, where have you been? How could I live this long without pussy this good?”

With only enough energy left to stay with him and let out high-pitched whines, your hands slowly reach up to wrap behind his head. Taking that to mean ‘I need more’, the same hand of his scrambles back down, nearly slipping off you from how wet you are. You let out a strangled moan, vision going black around the edges. Neither of you are very loud anymore, reduced to whimpers and quiet cries, the sound of his body slapping against yours lewdly is all you can hear. You’re brought there even faster this time, almost too much to handle at how sensitive you really are. Quickly, you cum around him one last time, your body falling forward slightly at the total loss of energy as you feel his hips stutter at the feeling. At almost the exact same time, so does he, nasal whines in your ear as he grips your body even tighter. He falls the opposite way, back onto the bed, bringing you with him. You lay there on top of him, head spinning and heavy breaths.

After what feels like forever, he shifts you off him and lays your head on a pillow. Pulling himself next to you, he whispers in your ear, “You need anything? Water? A towel?” Turning your head, you nod slightly and close your eyes. He laughs slightly, but gets up, whispering, “I asked two questions, but that works.” Hearing light shuffling in your kitchen and then the bathroom, he finally returns. He places the towel under you with a proud smile and puts the water on your nightstand. “I found everything love,” he says as he lays back down next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You did so good dear, so good,” he whispers, kissing your cheek tenderly. After what just went down, you definitely needed this. Your shaky hands reach out and grab the water, taking a gulp. Plopping back down, you turn to him, voice slightly louder than before, “You wanna hang out tomorrow?” He stares at you, almost confused, before snort-laughing at you. “Kind of going in the wrong order, huh?” Huffing, you try to turn over, but he holds you tighter, nuzzling into you. “It sounds amazing. Sounds like a plan. Now, though, you should rest.” Unable to resist how comfortable he is and how tired you are, you quickly succumb to sleep.

Waking up slowly to the sun in your eyes, you notice how sore you are. Everything from the previous night floods in, and you look over to notice that he’s gone. Damn. He seemed so sweet though, and caring, and…and you smell food cooking. Trudging out, heavy feet on the cold floor, you see Johnny, back in just his pajama bottoms, cutting up fruit. He turns at the sound of you entering the room, eyes lighting up as he smiles and walks over to you. “Good morning, sleepy. Feel ok?” You walk directly into him, face against his chest. He laughs, wrapping his arms around you lightly, fingers tracing shapes on your back. “Well, that answers it. I’m glad I got up before you then, I’ve got some food ready. You want some?” Nodding sleepily, he smiles, whispering “Yeah? C’mere.” He leads you to a seat at your table, helping you sit down. He places a plate with fruit and toast in front of you, a glass of water, and a bowl of oatmeal. “I worked with what you had. You should really go grocery shopping.” He sits next to you, face still glowing with happiness. As you eat, he talks about how he slept, that he woke up early to call out of work, and that he can’t wait to spend the day with you.

You finish eating, finally fully awake, and get up to get ready for the day. But Johnny jumps up, lightly grabbing your wrist. “Ah, wait. I don’t want you to get dressed yet…take such a lovely view away from me.” Smiling at him, you turn your wrist so that you’re holding his hand. “Then get ready with me.” You start to lead him towards the bathroom, which he happily follows you to. As you turn the shower on, getting the water nice and hot, he stares at you, a wide smile across your face. “God, I’m so lucky.” You turn to face him, eyes confused, but smile just as wide. “Shut up and get in already.” He quickly follows you in, flinching at the heat, but quickly adjusting. Without wasting a second, he’s pressed you into the corner, lips pressing into yours messily. You lean into him, one hand reaching out to stroke him lightly. But that only lasts so long, as he drops to his knees, lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, and begins lazily eating you out. Obviously still sore, you hiss at the feeling, but it feels so good that you ignore it. His tongue is pressed against you, sucking at your sensitive clit, but only for a little bit. He stands back up, grabbing your hips and lifting you up. You’re pressed into the corner still, as he leans in and guides himself in. Both of you groan at the feeling, bodies still remembering the previous night, but your desires surpass that. 

He’s fucking into you, your legs wrapped around his torso. He uses the stability of the wall and slams his hips into yours. The water is missing both of you as he wildly bucks into you, moaning into open-mouthed kisses. It doesn’t take long at all for him to cum, which he seems kind of embarrassed about, but it doesn’t matter to you. Kissing him lightly as he set you down, you smile up at him and hold his hand tightly. Smiling back, he squeezes your hand back. “Let’s not waste any more water, yeah?

[jedipoodoo]

The Other Woman (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Notes: miscommunication Trope, Hunter is a Girl Dad™, single fatherhood is hot, how can you hate Omega?? Tbh this is kinda goofy lol.

"Ah, kriff."

Hunter glanced at the glow of his comm and leaped off the couch, running around your house to grab his jacket and his shoes.

"Hunter?" you paused the holo film as he put his shoe on the wrong foot, and quickly had to change it.

"What's wrong?"

He glanced between you and the glow of the holo screen, with his hands held out as if to placate you.

"I am so sorry, I gotta go, my girl's expecting me."

You blinked once. Twice. Then there was a rushing in your ears as your entire world crumpled around you.

"Your...girl?" you asked, fists digging into the cushions of your couch. You had spent months flirting with Hunter, agonizing over whether of not he might like you back. When he asked you if you'd like a date, your heart soared to the moons and beyond. For reasons beyond you, you had invited him into your house, cooked him dinner, only to crash back down to the ground and find out he had someone else.

Hunter was completely oblivious to your sudden moral panic as he started talking about "his girl".

"She's brilliant, kinder than anyone I've ever met, and smart as a whip."

"Glad she's such a catch," You snapped, getting up and marching over to the door.

Hunter finally recognized the anger, radiating off you in waves.

"Is everything alright?"

You barked a humorless laugh.

"Is everything alright? You tell me, Mr. Dark-and-broody! Being in a relationship with multiple people at the same time may have been simple enough during the war, but not here! Not with me!"

His face fell.

"Oh right! I forgot, they didn't teach you any of that on Kamino." It was a particularly cruel barb, but you didn't care. You wanted Hunter to feel as utterly humiliated as you did right now.

"I... I don't understand..." Hunter mumbled, wringing his jacket in his hands.

"Let me spell it out for you then, Sergeant," You slammed the release on your front door and it hissed open, "Get out. Your girl may be okay with this, but I won't play second fiddle to anyone, not in this kind of relationship."

The only sound was the chittering of the sea crickets, a mournful melody that echoed the crestfallen look on Hunter's face. When he didn't move, you pointed him emphatically out the door. The moment he crossed the threshold, you shut and locked the door.

Then you collapsed into a ball and cried.

Did it amuse the force to play with your love life like this? You'd never had the courage to say yes to a date before. You were the kind of kid that got asked out only for it to turn out to be a joke.

Hunter was different. Hunter was supposed to be different. Everyone in the marketplace would talk him up all the time, from his heroics during the war, to the hard work he put in to help rebuild the island. You couldn't believe your good fortune at last when he asked you out.

Of course it was too good to be true.

You cried, curled up at the edge of the doorway until your spine began to protest. Even with all the energy drained out of you so furiously, you knew your bed would be a much more comfortable place to cry on. And there was still ice cream left in the fridge.

You ended up sleeping in the next morning. You didn't mean to. You woke up with your alarm first, but every part of you was just so sore and you were so exhausted, you just had to close your eyes for a few minutes.

A few minutes turned into a few hours.

It was noon when you finally made it to your noodle stall in the Archium, right next to Pilate's ice cone stand.

"You're late," The older man chuckled good naturedly as you started a fresh batch of pasta, "Your gentleman friend was here early this morning, waiting for you."

You tried not to grimace at the mention of Hunter. Your eyes were still red, but a wide rimmed hat hid that fact from your neighbors.

"Is he still here?"

"No, he left about an hour ago, said something about meeting an Omega."

Ah, so that was her name. You dped the hot water into your drain, not caring that it splashed everywhere.

"Everything alright?" Pilate asked.

"Peachy."

When you refused to elaborate, Pilate stopped pushing. It was lunch hour, so you soon had a line of customers stretching out around the Archium. You plastered on your customer service face and thanked all of them for their patronage, despite the anger that you held in your chest. It was shockingly easy to pretend you were perfectly fine when you had so many emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

For starting your day late, you were making a pretty decent profit. After the first couple of hours, business slowed down, but it would be just as busy during the dinner hour, and you had a few regulars that would pop in for an afternoon snack from time to time.

Lyanna Hazard was one such regular. She skipped up to your stall hand-in-hand with a new friend you hadn't met before.

"Hello girls! How can I help you today?" you asked.

"Four shrimp dumplings, please!" Lyanna placed her pocket money on the counter.

"Coming right up!" You ladled the dumplings from fry pit into two bowls, and set them in front of the girls. As you reached for the chopsticks so that they could eat, Lyanna's friend grabbed one with her bare hand

"It's hot!" she yelped, tossing the dumpling from one hand to the other in surprise.

Lyanna giggled, "That's why you use chopsticks, silly!"

Lyanna demonstrated, and her friend watched her, fascinated. With the dumpling balanced precariously on her chopsticks, she tentativelytook a tiny bite.

"Mmm!" she declared. She ravenously finished her dumplings while you laughed, rolling out pasta dough to make more dumplings.

"It's always a pleasure to see someone enjoy my food," You told her.

"It's amazing! My brother told me you were a good cook, but this is even better than I could've imagined!" she said.

"Oh really, who's your brother?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but the universe answered for her.

"Omega!"

You couldn't help the glare that involuntarily tugged on your face when you heard his voice. You spotted the offender halfway across the Archium, looking around, but to your absolute horror, Lyanna's new friend began to wave him over.

"Over here, Hunter!" She called, one hand cupped around her mouth.

You saw his shoulders relax for a moment, and then tense up again. It was the same spooked, father-in-headlights look that he gave you last night when you kicked him out. You wanted to shrivel up and die.

Lyanna and Omega missed this completely, however, and kept waving at Hunter. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here, but he begrudgingly trudged across the marketplace to your stall.

"Heya kids," He said, not quite looking at you.

"Hunter, you gotta try the dumplings!" Omega said, showing him her empty bowl.

"I have," Hunter said. It was part of the meal you'd made for him the night before. You thought you saw him glance at you, but you couldn't be sure. You were determined to stay angry at him, but those gorgeous brown eyes of his were going to be the death of you.

"Well, I'll see you all around then."

You turned your back on them, going back to the filling for the dumplings. You heard Lyanna talking excitedly to Omega about a few more stalls where they could get more food, and when you heard their voices fade away you assumed that all three of them had left.

There were a few moments of blessed silence, but Hunter cleared his throat, and you jumped in surprise.

"I need to talk to you."

You glared at him.

"I have nothing to say to you." you snapped.

"Then don't say anything but just listen-"

"You're a glutton for punishment, aren't-"

"I don't have another partner!" He said quickly.

You blinked, surprised.

"Omega's my little sister. She's my girl. She's who I had to get back to that night." to prove it, he pulled up his comm, sliding it across the table towards you.

You stared at him, suspicious. But you looked at the screen anyway.

Omega: Hunter, when is your date done?

Hunter: we're finishing a movie, kid.

Omega: I can't fall asleep. And Wrecker doesn't sing the Purrgill song as good as you do :(

Hunter: I told you I'd be gone tonight. I'll come say goodnight when I get back.

Omega: :(

You sighed. Omega was very sweet, and you couldn't imagine trying to say no to her on a daily basis.

"I am... So sorry..." You couldn't look at him, sliding his comm back across the countertop.

Hunter said nothing, but placed a hand over yours, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. That should've been one of the first things I told you.

He sighed, "I guess... I'm just not used to sharing everything, especially with new people."

"You're not obligated to share everything with me, you have a right to your privacy."

"I've been a soldier my entire life, and now, I'm trying to figure out how to be anything but. I was talking with Phee and she gave me an earful about how if I'm trying to date or get close to someone, I gotta make my priorities clear."

Hunter looked over his shoulder at Omega. She and Lyanna were at Pilate's stall now, trying to see how many scoops of flavored ice they could stack in one bowl.

"Omega's a good kid, but she hasn't had much of an opportunity to be one. My brothers and I aren't exactly model parents, but we're trying our best to give her the life she deserves."

You nodded, "That's admirable of you."

If you felt humiliated last night, it was nothing compared to the embarrassment you felt now. You'd insulted Hunter when all he was trying to do was take care of his little sister, which, if you thought about it, made him even more attractive than the tattoo and the eyes already did.

"All this to say, your reaction is completely justified with the information you had, and if you're willing, I'd like to try again."

He held out a hand to you, "Let me take you out on a proper date, to make up for all this."

You felt heat rising in your cheeks, "I should be asking how I can make this up for you," You insisted.

"Nonsense, you cooked and cleaned and everything and I tried to cut it short. Let me sweep you off your feet."

You raised one eyebrow. That sounded almost nothing like what he'd usually say.

He winced, "Yeah, I realized it the moment I said it. Phee told me that's what I should do, though I have no idea how to."

You giggled, "That's okay, I'd like that, though."

Hunter's eyes went wide, and you could almost melt into the cobblestones. "That's a yes? You're saying yes?"

"Yes," You giggled some more, and stepped out of your stall to speak face to face.

"I'd love to be swept off my feet by you, so long as it means you forgive me for being a poodoo-head."

"You are not a poodoo-head." Hunter said, placing his hand on your cheek, "You're a brilliant person, and I'd like to get to know you much better than I do now."

You flushed, from his words or his touch, you weren't sure, but you didn't entirely mind it.

You coughed to clear your throat. "So, Mr. Hunter, when should I plan on you picking me up?"

Hunter glanced at your stall, and back to you, "How soon can you close up shop?"

You grinned. You might have gotten a late start, but he didn't need to know that. He could make up for it in his own way.

"For you, Hunter? Right away."

[zepskies]

Hello. I was wondering if you could write an imagine in the BMD-verse (been following it for a while now; love, love, love it, by the way!) where Ben cries?

Like something really bad happens in general or to the Reader, and he losses it? I mean, personally, I have never known this man to cry, and I would love to see you conjure up something that could possibly elicite that reaction from him.

But no pressure - will definitely understand if you don't want to write it!

Oooh, so you really wanna kill me, huh? 🫠😭😭

Lol it's okay, thank you for loving Break Me Down!! It's one of my favorite story verses that I've been able to create on here. ❤️❤️

This request was difficult for me on multiple levels, but I think I was able to pull it off? (I'll let you be the judge.) This is set in the BMD-verse, shortly after "Love Actually."

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 2,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst, show-level violence, hurt/comfort, "twist" ending (you'll want to read until the end, trust me).

Imagine: Ben loses you.

Ben restrained another sigh when he realized you were no longer walking next to him.

He turned and saw you stopping in another damn kiosk, this time looking at a selection of Pashmina scarves. As if you didn’t have enough clothes.

“We’re not here for a damn shopping spree,” he called after you.

He ignored the people who glanced at him as they walked past, a couple of them even shooting him an annoyed look.

One didn’t just stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk in New York City, but as with most societal protocols, Ben couldn't really give a fuck.

He almost started tapping his foot. Instead, he crossed his arms as he glared in your general direction. You were smiling and chatting with the woman selling her wares as you finished the transaction.

Ben at least could admire the view of you bent over in those tight jeans and ankle boots. You also wore the dark green winter coat he bought you last month, lined with faux fur to keep you warm.

When you eventually came back to him, you shot him an amused smile. You held a new scarf in shades of green and blue, to match your coat. But you also held out a new pair of leather gloves for him.

“Here you go, Grumpy. I didn't forget about you,” you teased. He raised a wry brow at you and took the gloves. He inspected them with a half-critical eye.

“And how much did these cost, five cents?”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. He caught up with you and slipped the gloves into his pocket.

“My hands don’t get cold anyway,” he reminded you. And you often complained that his body heat was like a radiator, especially at night. Although, you hadn’t been complaining since the winter turned frigid this February.

“All right, whatever. Just don’t say I never get you anything,” you quipped. “Besides, you know you love to accessorize.”

A smirk pulled at Ben’s lips. The gloves were a half-assed gift, but he still wore the watch you got him for Christmas proudly on his wrist. That was a nice silver Rolex.

“All I know is, we’d better not be late for this damn meeting,” he said. “I don’t wanna hear Mallory’s fucking mouth.”

The two of you had made a day of coming into the city, hitting a nice brunch spot and ice skating at Rockefeller center before your date had been rudely interrupted—by a call for a new mission.

Grace Mallory had been a bit cryptic on the phone, but it had something to do with the mess Ben left of the drug cartels in South America. After they got back to the States, Ben left that “business” behind…he just hadn’t thought of how that would shake out in Colombia.  

So now, you two were headed to the Supe Affairs building. You slipped your arm around his, while his hands were in his pockets. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Try to enjoy the little things, Ben,” you told him. “We had mimosas and some bougie ass lobster tails with our eggs this morning. I skated circles around you on the ice. And now we’re going to get some work done.”

“On our day off,” he retorted.

“To be fair, you made the mess, Mr. Kingpin,” you pointed out. “We’ve just gotta clean it up…as usual.”

“Hey," he eyed you. But you both knew the warning had little heat behind it.

He still reached for your cheek and brushed his thumb across it. He felt how cold your face was, and he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk. Neither of you cared when pedestrians gave you dirty looks as they passed by.

Maybe you were right though. Maybe he should take stock of the small moments. Ben held your face with both hands and caressed some warmth back into your skin.

Your smile softened, and your eyes closed when his lips found their way to your forehead. He then took the newly bought scarf out of your hand and wrapped it comfortably around your neck.

“What a gentleman,” you said, with a small grin.

Ben smirked down at you…until his face fell.

He heard the whistle of the bullet before he saw it.

It took him another second to move, grabbing you and shielding you with his entire body when it hit his back. The bullet itself bounced harmlessly off his skin, but the inner compartment of Novichok exploded like a small smoke bomb. The smell was too familiar to him to be anything else.

Ben coughed and was forced to push you away from him before the gas reached you. You yelped and almost tripped on your feet, but you scrambled back against the wall of a drycleaners. Your wide eyes met his as his knees buckled; the gas had clouded around his head.

“Run!” he shouted through fits of coughing.

You hesitated, for just a second. But when another bullet ricocheted into the wall behind you, near your head, you ducked and had to take off running.

You wove through the busy sidewalk, pushing people out of your way as you went. Whoever was after him this time, you had a feeling these were the people Ben had pissed off in Colombia.

Fuck! You sprinted past an alleyway and saw the hand coming for your arm, but even when you turned, there was another man, dressed a black military-style uniform with his face covered by a black mask, waiting to grab you from behind.

It was muscle memory. You released an elbow into the man’s neck, a punch straight into his teeth and nose, then kicked his knee out with the heel of your boot.

You grabbed your gun from under your jacket and would've shot him, except the next man wheelhouse kicked it out of your hand. You stepped back on instinct, ducking the following punch, and the rest of his arm to run in the opposite direction.

The first man pointed a large automatic gun straight in your face. You gasped and put your hands up. With a quick glance in either direction, you realized that they’d cornered you.

Your hands were pulled behind your back by someone else. That’s when they started dragging you toward a black SUV parked in the corner.

Except that car was soon destroyed, by an old Honda Civic being shoved into it. The SUV's hood constantined like an accordion.

You looked up with wide eyes, and there stood Ben, at the crossroads of the alley. He was furious.

“Soldier Boy,” greeted the man who once again held the automatic gun poised at you. He pulled down his mask, revealing the tan face of a middle-aged man.

He moved over to you and grabbed your arm from his subordinate. He raised the gun to your back. With one press of his finger, your insides could become Swiss cheese.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to take in even breaths. You focused on Ben. His green eyes met yours, and briefly you caught the worry behind them before his steely gaze moved back to the man who held you.

“Pretty ballsy, Reyes,” Ben said. His voice was a drawl, more controlled than he felt. “You really thought this was gonna go down that easy?”

Reyes scoffed. “You’re the ballsy one. Taking off with all that product you stole.”

“You’ll have to take up with the CIA on that one,” Ben replied. “They confiscated all the smack from my place. Probably reselling it to a few hobos down the street. You’re welcome to check under the bridge over there.”

He gestured in the direction of the Hudson River.  

Reyes shrugged. The sound of a gun’s safety being clipped back resounded through the alley. You felt the vibration of it on your back. Your eyes closed for a moment.

“Bad news for her,” he said.

"Hey," Ben snapped. "There's no fucking need for that."

"I think I'll decide what we need," said Reyes. Your lips pursed as the gun dug into your back. "Maybe it's your bitch's insides at your feet."

Ben slowly raised a placating hand. Though his gait was still relaxed and arrogant, as always, you knew it was a well-crafted act. To hide his anger. His fear. To seem in control of himself, and to reinforce the intimidating presence he still was, even unarmed.

“Listen. If it’s money you want, we can work it out,” Ben replied.

His eyes once again found yours. He could see you were holding your breath. You were good at hiding it, but he knew you were scared. He wanted to tell you that he had this handled. That everything would be all right.

He focused on Reyes again. The other man considered the supe with a tilt of his head. He sucked his teeth and spit on the ground, out of the corner of his mouth. It was mixed with a bit of blood from when you'd punched him in the teeth.

“Okay, my friend,” said Reyes. “Let’s work this out. Pull out your phone.”

Ben made slow movements in grabbing his phone from his pocket. They all stepped further into the alley to avoid prying eyes and discussed the transfer of funds, and how much was fair. Ben claimed he was giving him a deal with his first offer.

Reyes demanded three times that amount. Ben raised his brows...but he complied. The money transferred from his bank account.

“Okay, we’re fucking done,” Ben snarked. He gestured at you with his eyes. “Let her go.”

In his mind, he was already contemplating how thoroughly he'd rip Reyes apart for this. After you were safe. He'd have a first class ticket to Medellin by tonight, ready to Colombian-necktie this cocksucker.

Reyes sighed through his nose. There was still about ten feet between him and Ben. He didn't seem to think it was enough. He took the gun off your back and backed up with you a few steps. Eventually, he released your arm.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart,” Ben reached a hand out, beckoning for you. You met his gaze once again, and let out a subtle breath.

You took three hesitant steps forward.

And the gunshots echoed horribly through the alley.

As it turned out, Reyes always had an escape plan. You were merely the distraction.

It proved effective, as Ben’s protest rang out as soon as the bullets fired. He raced forward and caught you as you stumbled, but his hands soon became coated in your blood; it fled from your back in thin rivulets.

You gasped and clung to his arms. His ears rang with the sound, along with tires squealing and shouts and police sirens. All he could focus on was the color draining from your face.

Both of your breaths came out ragged as he slid with you down to his knees. He brushed your hair away from your face, even as his blood-covered hand stained your cheek. Your pained eyes drew up to his face. You tried to speak, but you didn't have the strength.

“I hear the sirens. They’re coming for you, take you to the hospital,” he promised. His voice was rough, but his throat was tight. His eyes scanned over you. “All you need is my blood and…Christ. Fuck it all.”

He laid you down on the dirty asphalt and hurriedly yanked up his coat sleeve until it ripped. It exposed his arm. He was about to drag a blunt nail across his own skin to bleed into you.

“Ben.” Your fingers twitched against his knee.

When he looked at your face, there was no longer life in your eyes.

His own were wide, almost uncomprehending. His breathing was harsh as empty hands fell to his thighs. His head felt heavy, though his ears were still ringing.

He drew enough strength in his hand to wipe the blood from your cold cheek…but your face was beginning to blur.

Or not, he realized, as the sting in his eyes took him by surprise.

In a fit of mania, he gathered you back up in his arms and ignored the wetness covering your back. He held you, impossibly tight. Tighter than he’d ever held you, because he was alone in the alley…because he was alone again.

And it was his own fault.

His eyes squeezed shut against the burn, but it was futile. Everything was. His breaths were sharp and stifled as pain tore inside. A pain worse than anything the Russian's could've inflicted on him.

His lips pressed against your forehead, trembling there. The first drops of wetness rolled down his cheek. He couldn't stop it from happening, but then again. He guessed he truly was a failure, after all.

You made the mess…

His first tears had been spent at his mother’s funeral, when he stood alone at her gravestone.

His last ones would fall and die with you.

“Ben,” your voice was soft but insistent.

He finally woke with a start. A sharp inhale through his nose.

He had been sleeping on his side. Before he even truly registered where he was, in the safety of his bedroom, he turned his head toward you.

His eyes found your face in the dark, over his shoulder. Your hair was frizzy from sleep. The strap of your nightgown had fallen off one shoulder. Your face looked bleary and tired, but you frowned in concern.

“You okay, baby?” you asked. Your hand soothed across the dewy skin on his arm.

Ben’s throat constricted. He was starting to remember bits and pieces of the dream…the nightmare. He rubbed at his eyes, then dragged a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said at last.

“Hmm.” Your gaze narrowed at him. “You sure?”

Ben had only enough energy in him to nod in response. His heart was still racing. Maybe you sensed that, because you leaned onto his arm and dropped a hand down his chest. You kissed his bare shoulder with soft lips, and he couldn’t help himself.

He raised a hand to cup the back of your head. He let out a long, relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. Then he turned onto his back and brought you closer, with an arm slipping around your frame and pulling you against his chest. You made a sound of surprise, but you went willingly.

You brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his face and pressed a kiss against his neck, to his jaw, his cheek and above his brow. He accepted it all and tried to calm his breathing with the feeling of your touch, and the smell of your flowery soap that lingered on your skin.

With a hand still cupping your head, he guided your lips to his. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. You answered him by tilting your head, deepening the kiss for a moment.

You parted from him just as slowly. You knew everything wasn’t okay, but you also knew it wasn’t the time to push him for an answer.

Maybe in the morning, you thought. …I’ll make pancakes. Haven't done that in a while. And he’s always happier with something sweet.

You rested contentedly against his warm chest and let his heartbeat, gradually slowing back into a steady rhythm, lull you back to sleep.

Ben tangled his fingers into your hair. He laid one more kiss on the top of your head.

And for damn sure, he was going to cancel that trip into the city tomorrow.

AN: I know, I know. The "it was all a dream" thing is super cheesy, but I couldn't leave it on heartbreak. I just don't have it in me with these two. 🥲❤️‍🩹

Read the Sequel:

A friend of mine requested a sequel to this imagine: "You confront Ben about his fears."

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

request: Sam and Deans sister is really squeamish with her own injuries. I am talking like gagging throwing up so grossed out, that’s how much it affects her. Her brothers are aware of her huge fear and understand what they have to do when she gets injured. They have been through this many times with her before and are extremely familiar with her panic. Even with all of her injuries, it never gets better for her and she freaks out every single time her brothers have to patch her up.

Warnings: gore, cursing,

A/N: Okay some of this might be so dramatic but it’s soooo real like I am one of these people who are absolutely sickened by stitches and gashes. I had to get stitches before multiple times and I was gagging the whole time gripping my leg. I would assume an injury like this one is 1000% worse so it may seem dramatic but it’s like so real tbh. Anyway I was too lazy and tired to proof read this but I’m still gonna upload it and check it all later so if anything’s clearly spelled wrong… oops sorry lol. Hope you enjoy:)) Requests are still open!

You were easily disgusted by the sight of your own wounds which was unfortunate because you were a hunter so wounds were more common than not. Blood was fine and little scrapes were okay, but stitches or deep gashes had you sick to your stomach. You could not stop yourself from physically gagging or throwing up when you had serious injuries. You were completely okay with others injuries, but your own? They made you sick to your stomach.

It was always a fight with your brothers because you obviously needed to take care of your wounds, but the idea of it made you physically ill. They had to hold you down more times than not to clean up your wounds and stitch them because you would thrash and thrash. If they weren’t holding you down, then you were usually squeezing your eyes shut, holding your breath and biting back throwing up. Either way, you never won because you were either crying, gagging, throwing up or fighting them. So when a demon took a knife and sliced your shin you couldn’t help but curse.

“Fuck!” You cried and collapsed to the floor. While Dean finished off the demon that sliced you, you grabbed your shin in a tight grip to look at your wound. You cried out in pain and felt sick to your stomach when you realized how bad it was.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” You gagged, seeing your skin gaping open. Dean killed the demon and his attention immediately went to you. He eyed your injury up and before he could make his next move, Sam swooped in.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey you’re going to be alright, okay?” Sam said coming into your view. He looked at your wound and clenched his jaw. He caught Dean’s eyes. Dean sent him a grimace and shook his head. Sam already knew how this was going to end and he also knew that he had to word his next sentences to you very carefully.

“I’ll grab the car.” Dean hurried off, knowing that they had to disinfect and care for your wound as soon as possible.

“Okay, hey we’re going to get you cleaned up, it’s okay.” Sam said softly with his attention back on you. As he reached down to pick you up, you gripped onto his wrist with panic in your eyes.

“No, Sammy, wait, please no, please!” You whimpered, now feeling your body start to tremble. You were so not mentally prepared for this to be happening to you right now. Sam sighed, knowing how hard it was going to be for all of you.

“Bug,” he said sympathetically, “you know that’s a deep gash.” He finished insinuating that you knew that there was no other option, but to deal with the wound. You let out a sob and let him finish picking you up.

“I know sweetheart, I know, I’m sorry.” He whispered. Dean pulled up the car and hopped out. Sam carried you to the car while Dean opened the door for him and the three of you got in. You cried the entire way to the bunker while your brothers tried their best to comfort you. Once you got to the bunker, Dean went in first to get everything sorted as Sam worked on coaxing you out of the car.

“Sammy!” You sobbed when he opened the door closest to you.

“Y/N/N I’m sorry but we have to clean you up.” He said already knowing where you were going with it.

“No!” You cried gagging. “I’m going to throw up, I’m going to throw up!” You panicked.

“Hey hey hey it’s going to be okay!” He said reaching out to you, but you leaned away from him.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You mumbled. “Sam please I-I-I can’t fucking do it, I can’t!” You cried.

Sam sighed. “If we don’t clean it up now, it could get worse, bug. You would be in extra pain and it would require even more care.” Sam pointed out trying to get you to understand.

“But I don’t want either!” You cried.

“I know, but these are your only options.” He said sympathetically.

You threw your head back and cried. You were defeated, he was right.

“Fine,” you sobbed.

“Come on sweetheart, I got you.” He said softly as he helped you out of the car and picked you up. You squeezed your arms around his neck tight and dug your face into his chest as he carried you inside.

He walked you to the table where he tried setting you down gently, but failed. You still had your arms tight around his neck, not letting him go. You whimpered as you peaked out from his chest and saw all of the supplies out.

“Kiddo, we’ve gotta patch you up and you know that we do. So I need you to hang with me kid, okay?” Dean asked gently, coming into your view with disinfectant in his hands.

You cried, but released your grip on Sam. He sat you on the table and you instantly reached for your leg. You squeezed your leg tight hoping to take some of the pressure away from where you were injured as Dean got ready to clean you up.

“Alright I’m just going to disinfect it right now okay? I’m not touching it yet, just pouring it over your leg, alright kid?” He asked.

You nodded and whimpered, still squeezing your leg. You knew this part was going to hurt like hell. You closed your eyes and looked away and you felt Sam’s hand on your back. The cold liquid poured onto your leg and your breath got caught in your throat as you felt the intense sting and burn. You choked back a sob. You hated this feeling. You hated knowing that your wound was bubbling and that the liquid was going into your flesh because your skin was practically flapped open. The whole idea of it made you feel sick, but you knew this was the easiest part of the whole clean up.

“You’re doing so good kid, hang with me.” Dean said as he got the cloth gauze out. You felt your heart rate increase.

“Wait De-“ you started before he cut you off.

“I’m not going to do anything without telling you first and I’ll walk you through it as always.” He reassured you.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“I’ve gotta dry it up so I can start the stitches,” he said, squinting his eyes at you to get a better read on your expression. Sam felt you stiffen under his touch.

“Hey you’re doing so good bug, Deans going to continue.” He said, nodding to Dean and not giving you an option to stop him. Dean gave you a reassuring nod and blotted your wound. You hissed in pain as he finished drying it. As soon as you saw him reach for the needle and thread, you tried to scramble off the table. Your brothers knew you too well though and Sam had you pulled back.

You were frantic. “Please wait no wait” You gagged. “I-I-“ You gagged again. “No wait hold on!” You finally screeched in fear and pleaded your one last attempt. Tears were streaming down your face and you just couldn’t do it.

“You’re okay.” Dean reassured, nodding to you.

“But I’m not Dean!” You whined, feeling like you were going to pass out.

“Hey, hey, hey, the sooner I start, the sooner I can finish. I need you to stay with me kid. You’re okay.” He soothed, eyeing you. He knew that there was a great possibility of you passing out. Both of your brothers greatly preferred you to be conscious when they were patching you up to prevent further complications.

You accepted your fate and threw your head back crying. You motioned to Dean to start the stitches. As soon as he pierced through your skin with the needle you let out a sob.

“Shhhhh, shhh, it’s okay.” Sam murmured, rubbing your back and holding your body up. You felt Dean tug at your skin as he stitched you up and you gagged. This was one of the worst feelings in the world. You suddenly felt really weak and tried to blink away the black spots clouding your vision. Sam felt your body start to become less tense and figured you were slipping away from consciousness.

“Dean.” He alerted his brother. Dean looked up at you.

“HEY, HEY, keep your eyes open kiddo!” He shouted before lowering his voice. That confirmed Sam’s thoughts so he gave your face a little tap. You shot your eyes back open and focused on Dean’s mouth moving.

“HEY, HEY, I need you to stay awake, can you do that for me kid?” He asked. His voice felt so far away and you tried to nod, but you gave up and your head lolled to the side. You closed your eyes and felt Sam tapping your face again, but you didn’t have the energy to open them back up.

“Shit!” You heard Dean mumble before you fell into complete darkness.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you felt a sharp stabbing pain in your leg. You jolted up frantically and Sam grabbed you to hold you down as you whimpered. Dean stopped stitching you so that your erratic movements didn’t cause him to screw up. You came to and focused on your surroundings.

“There she is! I need you to keep those eyes open for me kiddo.” Dean said looking at you.

“You’re okay, relax.” Sam soothed, but you didn’t care. As Dean turned his focus back to your gash, you cried out and tried to jerk your leg away.

“Sam, hold her down, I’ve gotta finish this up.” Dean said shooting you a sympathetic look. Sam gripped your shin tight and held you in place as you cried out in pain and disgust. Every time you felt the tug of your skin, you gagged. You squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, clenching your jaw. You didn’t know how long had passed before you heard Sam’s gentle voice.

“Hey sweetheart, I need you to breathe for me or else your going to make yourself pass out again.” He said, still holding your leg in place. You didn’t even notice that your lungs were searching for oxygen until you let in a deep breath and felt the relief. Dean looked up at you.

“Atta girl, I’m almost done, hang in there.” He encouraged you. You cried out a few more times, before Dean put down the needle and thread.

“All done!” He said and you let out an audible sigh of relief. He out the antibacterial cream and unscrewed the cap.

“Okay I’m going to quickly put this on and wrap it up.” He explained to you. You nodded and he took that as his approval to continue. You accidentally caught sight of your wound and gagged.

“Blah oh my God I fucking can’t I’m- blah- I’m going to-“ You gagged. “I’m going to throw the fuck up.” You gagged again. It was just word vomit with you gagging every other second. You looked away, but the feeling of your skin and knowing what it looked like still continued to make you gag. Dean quickly spread the cream over your stitches and you gagged again. It just grossed you the hell out. The whole idea of it just made you sick to your stomach. He quickly wrapped up your leg and patted your knee.

“Good as new kiddo, you’re all patched up.” He sighed in relief.

“Thank you.” You whispered. You felt the ache and burn of your wound as you repositioned yourself on the table. You were ready to leap into your bed and stay there for eternity.

“Can you walk?” Sam asked, reaching out to help stabilize you as you got off the table.

“Yeah I-“ You gagged as you felt your skin ache from being stretched by the stitches. “I’m good.” You replied and walked without bending your leg to prevent yourself from feeling that gross stretch of your skin again. Sam looked at you in concern as Dean couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Alright kid, let’s get you to bed.” He said as he swooped you up in his arms. You relaxed in his arms and he brought you into your room. He gently placed you on your bed and helped you with your blankets.

“Thanks De.” You mumbled before you noticed Sam also in the room, “thanks s’mmy.” You said softly. You were so exhausted and could barely keep your eyes open.

“Goodnight bug, call us if you need anything.” Sam said before he walked out of the room. Dean followed him, leaving your bedroom door open so they could check on you frequently through out the night.

[nayomi247]

Save a horse, Ride a cowboy𐚁

(My version)

A/N: @heart-of-the-morningstar has inspired me to do my own version of the save a horse ride a cowboy smut that she posted, so this is a full one shot. Make sure you guys go visit @bat-boness and give them love and support. As this fic was based off of their drawings. This also is based off the game Red Dead Redemption 2 because that's the only way I'll be able to format this and make it look good. (TAKES PLACE AROUND THE SAME TIME RDR2 DOES)

Pairing: Cowboy! Outlaw! Lucifer/F!Reader

Contents: Smut, established relationship, p in v sex, bondage, biting, orgasm denial, dirty talk, sub Lucifer, light angst, cowgirl position, spanking, hand jobs, dom and sub undertones, blow jobs, praise kink, Lucifer for once isn't short (only because of his boots lol)

‼️DISCLAIMER‼️: THIS ALSO IS NOT PROOF READ, IT'S SOMETHING I THREW TOGETHER IN THE SPAN OF A FEW HOURS

As always, work under the cut🤞🏻

Your husband, Lucifer, wasn't always the kindest man. Of course he was to you, but others weren't quite as lucky. There'd been multiple times where he'd come home with blood covering his hands and shirt.

Though it wasn't something you liked particularly, you still loved your husband, despite all the wrong he'd done in the world.

So there you sat in your shared kitchen, waiting for him to get home. It was well after the time he normally got back. You assumed the job just took a bit longer to handle.

But as time went on, you started to get more worried. He'd never taken this long before. You stood up from your chair, completely forgetting about the plate infront of you and walked over to the door. There, you slipped on your boots and went to grab the door handle.

As soon as you turned the knob and went to walk out, you immediately stopped. There stood Lucifer, coughing and dusting off his muddy clothes, not even noticing that the door has opened and you were standing there. His eyes finally moved up to meet yours.

He smiled brightly. "Oh, my love-" He started, then confusion took over as you leaped at him, almost pushing him off the porch.

"Where the hell were you!?" You practically cried. He fumbled back, both confusion and worry washed over his face. "Honey, what are you-" He started once again, but you had cut him off. "You know exactly what I'm talking about Lucifer. I waited for hours! I thought you were dead, or stranded somewhere!" Tears threatened to roll down your cheeks.

Realization finally hit him and he knew he had fucked up. "L-Listen, the job took longer than I was expecting, but I got out fine, see?" He spinned around, showing that he didn't have a single scratch anywhere. "And," He said, reaching into his satchel. "I brought home a lot of money." He smiled, hoping that would be enough for an apology.

You sighed. You were still annoyed, but glad he was okay. "Go inside." You said, stepping to the side to let him in. "Of course my dear." He said with the stupid, but handsome smirk he'd always use when he got his way. As he moved past you, he placed a kiss to your head. You swatted at him and he laughed, walking over to the coat rack.

"Your food is probably cold." You said, picking up the plate and walking over to place it on the stove top. You were one of the few lucky places to get electricity at this point in time. You walk back over to where you had previously sat. He stood by the door, taking off his boots and jacket, now left in black jeans and a red collared over shirt.

He walked over to the table, sitting in his designated spot, across from you. There you sat, looking like your mind was running a mile a minute. Silence filled the room for a few minutes. Lucifer was becoming more nervous with every ticking of the clock. No one spoke, except for him.

"I'm sorry." He said. You looked up to him, for the first time since he sat down. He looked guilty, and you felt a bit bad. You flashed him a small smile, which calmed his nerves a bit. "Go upstairs." You commanded, and he immediately knew what you meant by that.

"S-sweetheart-" He fumbled over his speech, trying to convince you that he didn't deserve this. "Now." You said sternly. He got up from his seat with a nod, then made his way upstairs.

You sat there for a moment longer before you cleaned up and started up the stairs as well. You made your way down the hall to your shared room, the floor boards creaked loudly with every step.

You walked up to the door, stopping for a second before turning the handle and stepping in. You looked over to the bed, and there sat your beautiful husband. He looked like a mess.

You couldn't help but pity him. He smiled nervously at seeing you enter. His thumbs twiddled together to keep himself somewhat calm. "H-Hello, my love." He said. You made your way over to him, placing a hand on each side of him and leaning in for a kiss. He allowed you to do so, groaning a bit at the way your tongues danced together.

You found him following your face, more like chasing your lips once you pulled away. You smiled at him, and he made his best attempt to smile back.

"I assume you know what's going on Luci?" You asked him. He slowly nodded in response. "Good," you continued. "Take everything off, I'll get your rope." You pulled away, walking over to a dresser on the other side of the room. As you rummaged through the drawer, you heard the sound of clothes hit the floor. The thought of how he looked made you sweat.

You turned around, rope in hand. You slowly made your way back over to the bed where he sat again, this time clothesless. Except for the white hat that sat atop his head.

Your gaze made its way to in-between his thighs, there laid his half hard cock. You smiled to yourself and brung the ropes to his now together wrists, then tied them above his head.

"Too tight?" You asked, pulling at the restraints lightly. "No." He said. "It's okay." You pulled yourself back and threw the rope towards the dresser, leaving the mess for later. You leaned into him again, using one hand to cradle his cheek, the other to stroke his hard on.

He moaned into your mouth and bucked his hips up into your hand. You immediately pulled away. He whined at the loss. "You should know better sweetheart." You stated, and he mumbled an apology. You brought yourself down so you sat right infront of his cock. You looked up before taking your tongue and licking from the base to the tip.

He whimpered and tossed his head back. "F-fuck angel.." satisfied with this reaction, you brought yourself down completely onto him, his tip hit the back of your throat. He moaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. You set a steady pace as you bobbed your head up and down pulling a variety of sounds from his throat.

You felt his cock begin to twitch in your mouth. He was close. "Shit-! D-don't stop, please, please don't." Right as you felt he was about to release, you pulled off, leaving him a mess and unsatisfied.

He whined like a child and groaned. You grabbed where the rope was connected to the top of the bed and untied it. He thought you were letting him go but boy was he wrong, very wrong.

"Scoot back." You instructed. He reluctantly did what you said, still whining about being denied. Once he was by the headboard, you tied him up once again, but now he was more comfortable.

He sprawled himself out before you, showing every part of his beautiful pale body. You got off the bed and started to take your clothes off as well. Once you were naked, as he was, you got back up onto the bed.

Sat on your knees infront of him and leaned forward, grabbing his hat off his head and placing it on your own. "So pretty." He praised as you brought your hand down to your pussy and slid your fingers in between your wet folds. Lucifer couldn't help but be in a trance at the sight infront of him. You were so beautiful, you could make him cum just by the way you looked at him.

You pulled your fingers away. They were now covered in your slick. You took those fingers, and placed them in Lucifer's mouth to suck, which he gratefully did. He moaned at the taste of you, wanting nothing more than to eat you out till you couldn't think straight.

Keeping your fingers in his mouth, you crawled your way up so you hovered right above his hips. Without a second thought, you slammed down onto him. He cried out, biting down on your fingers and squeezing his eyes shut.

You moaned too, his tip hitting your g-spot perfectly. "Good boy.." you whispered, bringing your free hand to run your hand down his chest. "You look so pretty like this." His cheeks flushed and you smiled warmly at him.

He bucked his hips up, and in response, you brought your hand down to his thigh, hard. This resulted in him crying out. You pulled your fingers out of his mouth, refusing to move.

He began to plead with you. He already was denied before, he couldn't handle this too. "Please baby," he whined "Please please please, I promise I'll be good. I'm so so sorry angel. Please fuck me."

Seeing him such a pleading mess infront of you turned you on more than anything could. You did as he asked and slowly sat up, feeling him drag inside you before slamming down again. This continued, moans and other sounds coming from you both. You quickly began to speed up.

"Yes yes yes yes, don't stop." He cried, "W-wanna touch you." Sweat dripped down his features as he tried everything he could to get loose.

You yourself also felt that coil starting to tighten, your pace brutal and quick. You had to bring a hand to your head to make sure the hat stayed on. "S-shit Luci, gonna.. cum." You said, tossing your head back in pleasure. "So, close.." You both said, each orgasm hitting at the same time. Your body shook and he rutted into you, a deep groan coming from his chest as hot ropes of his cum painted your insides.

You collapsed onto him, still having tiny spurts from the after-effects. His gasps as well as your pants could be heard. After about a minute or so, you sat up and smiled weakly at him. He did the same. You leaned down and grabbed him by his face.

"Promise me that you'll never keep me waiting like that again, okay?" You said sternly. He loved when you were dominant. "Yes darling." He whispered and you placed a peck to his lips before grabbing his wrists and untying him.

His arms shot out towards you, and pulled you down onto his chest, the hat falling off in the process. He peppered your face with kisses, holding you so tight that you couldn't get up even if you wanted too.

You giggled and laid your head on his chest, his cock still embedded inside you. He flipped the pair of you over so he was now laying on you. He buried his face in your boobs with a giddy grin on his face.

"I love you so much my darling." He mumbled from your chest. You smiled and kissed his head, your hand rubbing his back.

"I love you too, cowboy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This definitely isn't my best work, but I used past tense, which I normally don't use. I hope it still sounded decent regardless of how unput together it was. Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed! I have another fic in the works that'll hopefully be out within the next week. Love you guys🫶🏻

Here's the original drawings

[nebbistrs]

more bnha/mha headcanons!

part one!

(i recommend you read through my first set of hcs bc theres a few references jajaja. i did say its a ref. on those points specifically tho lol.)

• katsuki wears hearing aids, but refuses to learn sign language. does he know it? yes, but hes very pissed about it

• even before the final arc, katsukis arms were already very messed up. fighting at the end just worsened it, almost to the point his arm may never recover if he breaks it again (kinda laike izuku)

• katsukis hero costume head gear thingy also works as a muffler on his ears

• katsuki listens to heartbreak songs even if hes never experienced one

• izuku spies on hitoshi when he trains. hitoshi always catches him and its super awkward each time, but they become rly close over time

• izuku plays persona games (nebstar is totally not planning a persona 3 au with bnha characters)

• besides katsuki, the person in the class izuku takes the most notes of is shoto and ochako

• izuku buys hitoshi banana milk (ref. to prev. headcanons lol)

• izuku use to be an undertale fan

• ochako works part time after school at a nearby cafe

• ochako listens to heavy metal when she works out, but her other playlists are early 2000s songs. she asks izuku for recommendations sometimes (referencing pt. 1)

• ochako originally voted for tenya to be class representative, but thought he would be too stuck up so she changed her vote to izuku

• ochako wants to take up sewing, its one of her after school clubs

• tsuyu loves to watch romance shows even though she usually complains about how unrealistic they are

• tsuyu didnt see toru one time, so as she was using her tongue in training and smacked the absolute shit out of her by accident. she still feels bad about it to this day

• whenever its too cold, tsuyu asks mezo if they can cuddle. theres been times (multiple) mezo has to take her to her room because she falls asleep bc hes so warm and gentle

• momo depises wearing pants. she grew up a prim and proper lady so she lives in dresses and skirts. even a majority of her pajamas are night gowns, if not, it has to be a silk matchibg set

• sometimes when the girls notice tsuyu missing her family, specifically her brother and sister, they let her do their hair

• momo has an intense fear of heights, which is why she never gets on roller coasters

• momo listens to classical music. theres no way she doesnt.

• until U.A, momo never had any real friends. even though she went to private school, her 'friends' were very fake and used her for her money

• mina lives in gyaru fashion & makeup outside of school. even during school she tries to do her heavier makeup but is often reprimanded for it

• despite her whole pink aesthetic and room, minas favorite color is actually purple

• mina actually hangs out with eijiro and tetsutetsu a lot

• watches your lie in april every april. and its not one day, its everday of april. and mina cries every time

• hanta moves very well with his quirk, but actually prefers to skateboard

• hanta actually won a skateboarding competition right before enrolling at U.A. bro did some crazy stunts

• when he has nightmares about fighting villains, tape shoots out of hantas arms and hes unaware until the morning when he finds himself covered in tape instead of his blanket

• hanta has a pair of cargo pants for every possible occasion. yes, cargo pants.

• automatically in winter, mezo will wrap his arms around tsuyu to keep her warm and snow away from her.

• even though modified outfits for quirks are actually very common, mezo still cant find coats for his body. he has one and its been through shit. instead he turns into elsa from frozen and says, "the cold doesnt bother me anyways"

• mezo keeps a stuffed animal in his room despite saying having a lot of stuff was unnecessary. he keeps it because it was from the girl he saved when he was younger. she gave it to him and told him if he felt sad that the stuffed animal would be there for him

• mezo would sneak into the city because he hated how he was treated when he was younger. he ended up joining a dance group where everyone was 18 and older. they still reach out to him and support him. literally, they were cheering for him at the sports festival even if he didnf make it to finals

BONUS!

• momo and tenya have study sessions together. since she is the top student he doesnt go to anyone else

• shoto gives nicknames to all his pokemon. they are named after his classmates. there is at least 5 of each classmate as he tries to complete the pokedex (ref. to part one)

• rikido has a big fat crush on one of the girls in class 1-b but doesnt know how to confess or even if she will accept so he bakes cakes for her and gives it to her before school starts

• denki sneezes like a girl and kyoka sneezes like a 50 year old man. they always tease each other about it

• eijiro had a wedgie and pulled it when he thought no one was looking but tetsutetsu and mina did and they will never let it go.

[transmascaraa]

Hi it's 🍓 anon again! Can I have the characters from my last request (the usual hehe) for possibly something with the plot of Snow white? /(⁠≧ U ⁠≦⁠)/

Like reader gets poisoned by an apple (someone gives it to us 🤯), basically dies or something (falls asleep I guess) and has to be kissed to wake up, I want the ANGST to be there 😈 but I want us to wake up in the end too because yes. You could also have them hunt down the ugly bastard that poisons us if you want to 💗

Hope your night is well 🎀

multiple characters headcannons!

snow white au✧

characters: gaming, bennett, tighnari, cyno, wanderer x snow white!gn!reader

author's note: that's a really good idea for an au lol i really like it so i hope you like this one too<3

☆ Gaming

-you'd get poisoned by some dumb bitch and he would notice that you're not coming home. so ofc he went out looking for you.

-soon enough, he found you, laying on the ground in some deep, dark forest.

-not knowing what he had to do, he fell to his knees and started crying. breaking down, begging you to wake up, holding you hand.

-no, you weren't dead, right?!

-it's almost as if a ghost told him, he felt the need to kiss you for one last time. to feel your lips once again.

-he laid his lips on yours, and instead of feeling the warm feeling, they were cold...

-he pulled away and started crying harder, muttering a little "goodbye" to you.

-then, he noticed you were starting to wake up.

-"h-huh? [name]?!" he asks as he looks at you again, wiping his tears.

-"gaming..." you slowly say, getting up and stretching out a bit.

-he'll never leave you alone for a second once again...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✿ Bennett

-he'd notice that you're not there, and he would ask EVERYONE in mondstadt if they've seen you

-after realizing that they don't, he starts looking for you.

-he doesn't know what to do, he's worried, only making himself more unlucky.

-falling over a bunch of times, bleeding knees a bit, but he finally found you...

-laying on the ground, motionless.

-he was shocked, he quickly ran to you, and checked your pulse.

-you weren't alive.

-he starts crying hard, doing literally anything that might get you back to life.

-shaking you, burning a little circle on your hand, pinching your arm, holding your hand tight, nothing worked.

-the then kissed you.

-"am i really this unlucky..." he cries, putting his knees to his chesk, burying his head in them.

-then, he feels a hand on his back.

-"it's okay, i'm back now..."

-he cannot express the happiness he felt at that very moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✯ Tighnari

-after literally you not picking up the phone 2 times, he started looking for you in the darkest sumeru rainforest. also called the most dangerous one.

-where could you possibly be?

-at first, he wasn't all that worried, but after you not being there for a long while now, he started to overthink a bit, but tried to brush it off.

-finally, he saw you. but you seemed dead.

-tighnari, with his heart racing at an incredible pace, checked if you had any pulse.

-you didn't.

-shitshitshitshitshit he was trying not to cry so hard, just looking at your dead body right before him.

-how could he not know where you were?

-he cursed at himself, feeling a bit of guilt.

-and as a goodbye, he kissed you softly, like never before.

-he turned around, not wanting to break down-

-"tighnari..." you mumbled, slowly opening your eyes and sitting up.

-he turned around, surprised to see you awake.

-he started crying tears of happiness, but tried to mask it with scolding you.

-"i-idiot! what were you doing in the forest all alone!?" he said, putting his hands on your shoulders.

-he will make sure that whoever did this to you gets the same to happen to them...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✷ Cyno

-you're not there?

-he's looking for you already.

-far, far away, in the desert.

-where the hell could you be!?

-reassuring himself by saying that you were messing with him.

-until...

-your body layed limp in a small shadow.

-"[name]!?" he called out, running to you.

-fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck he's panicking but trying to keep his composure.

-but he's struggling.

-he tried everything, he spilled all of his water onto you, that he needed for his thirst. it was the desert, after all.

-then, he tried cpr like how tighnari taught him.

-hopeless, he gets up, and starts walking away, wiping off his tears.

-"cy... cy-cyno..." you mutter out, trying to get up, looking at his back.

-he turns around shockingly, then runs towards you. he hugs you tight.

-"who." he says, a serious look on his face, despite the tears.

-you tell him who did it, and after that, you never see that person again...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

｡ Wanderer

-he gets worried pretty fast, i mean, judging by his backstory...

-so he calls you, but you don't answer. he goes out looking for you. he's flying over sumeru looking for you.

-you're nowhere to be found.

-he's worrying, worrying so much. his nonexistent heart is beating out of his chest right now. he's scared.

-his eyes keep watering, but he keeps wiping them away.

-all until he sees you in some dark forest, laying down on the grass, not moving. an apple beside you.

-he flies down, he doesn't even wipe his tears anymore, he's crying. he's breaking down.

-he throws the apple into some bushes, realizing it was poisonous already at the look of it.

-he shakes you, he begs you, he yells, he screams.

-laying his head on your chest after so much tension, just crying and begging you quietly.

-"you can't betray me too... idiot..." he raises his head up for one last time, giving you a kiss before burying his face in your neck.

"you broke your promise too, liar..." he closes his eyes, letting his tears flow freely. he was too weak now. too weak to even call you an idiot again.

-he feels you move. he feels a hand on his hair, ruffling it weakly.

-"i didn't... thank you..." you mumble, keeping your eyes open.

-and there, he promised you he would kill them.

-tomorrow morning, there was a person said to be gone missing, last seen in the comfort of their home...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it's good

i like it i love the snow white au fr

hope you like it 🍓anon<3